Walking proof that Karma's important
by ElvenPwner
Summary: I KNEW making fun of the boohbahs would get me into trouble. After all, if i'd had GOOD Karma, i wouldn't BE here, now would I. Not for those who hate sarcasm. Nonsue. A Southern girl goes to ME story. Not a Legomance. NOW COMPLETE after 8 years!
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: umm...yeah, if I owned Lord of the Rings, I wouldn't be posting on here. So please don't sue me. I've grown attached to my cardboard box. I even decorated it.

Author's note: it's my first fic, so be nice in your reviews please! I do, however, appreciate constructive criticism.

"Ooooh. Not good."

Slowly, I scanned my new surroundings.

No longer was I in my comfy car coming back from a friend's house to my home on the outskirts of Atlanta, the windows down as the wind blew through my hair and my Linkin Park CD turned all the way up.

Now I was standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking an ocean so turbulent that it sent spray up to meet me as it crashed on the edge of the rocks. A strong wind whipped my short brown hair around me. White peaked mountains rose steep in the distant background, a sharp contrast to the stormy skies above.

I was lost, alone, and had no idea how to get home, where I was, or even how I'd gotten there in the first place.

Then again, I was no longer heading straight into an oncoming Semi whose drunk driver had swerved into my lane.

All in all, I think it was an improvement.

A hand grabbed my shoulder.

I whirled around, emitting a high-pitched girly shriek that I would never had lived down had any of my friends been there to hear.

"Who are you, witch, that you have invaded my dreams and brought me to this place," snapped the man who'd grabbed me.

I'D invaded HIS dreams?

I crossed my arms and leaned back, regarding him warily.

"I might ask the same of you. YOU were here first, ergo YOU brought ME here."

"I asked first," he snapped back.

"I made a better point," I retorted, my eyebrow rising in challenge.

"I have a sword."

I surveyed him warily. He was dressed strangely, resembling a medieval hunter, and did indeed have a wicked looking sword strapped to his side. "Touché," I replied calmly, my lip twitching in bemusement. "My name is Rose, I'm not a witch, and I didn't bring either of us here. Your turn."

He regarded me for a moment, his grey eyes keen with intelligence. Finally, he bowed, which had my eyebrow (which had come down from before) shooting up again.

"I am called Strider, my lady Rose."

The other eyebrow joined the first.

Suddenly, it all made sense. This man obviously thought he was Aragorn from Lord of the Rings, and was acting accordingly, down to the British accent and ranger outfit.

Great, there really IS no escape from the crazies.

I cocked my head to the side.

"If you get to be Aragorn, then I call dibs on Galadriel."

He looked at me in confusion, to focused on the first part of my comment to be insulted by the last.

"You know of me?"

"I've read the books and seen the movies. You've got good taste, I'll give you that. I knew a guy who thought he was Gollum." I made a moue with my lips. "He went so far as to dress in a loincloth and throw himself off a mountain pretending it was Mount Doom." I shrugged. "It was only _after_ that that we realized his tree didn't go all the way to the top branch, if you know what I mean."

He stared at me, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"Indeed," he said slowly. He was looking at me like I was the crazy one.

How ironic.

"Oh, no you don't," I said, waggling a finger at him. "You're certifiable. YOU don't get to look at me like _I'm_ crazy. _I'm_ not the one dressed like I'm from Middle Earth."

His eyes widened. He hastily gathered his wits about him again though, and gave me a look of confusion.

"Middle Earth being the fictional universe created by J.R.R. Tolkien," I elaborated.

Still the blank look.

"Aragorn was from Middle Earth," I said, giving him more hints.

"Milady, I well know what Middle Earth is. I'm from it," he said, his voice tinged with amusement as his eyebrows rose.

"Everyone knows Middle Earth doesn't exist," I told the eyebrows.

They looked at me like I was crazy.

"If Middle Earth doesn't exist," he said, his eyes laughing with amusement, "and you're not a figment of my imagination, nor a witch -- neither of which I'm completely sure you AREN'T --, then where are you from?"

"Earth in the year 2006, where the other relatively sane people are from," I retorted, putting my hands on my hips.

"Well, your accent IS unlike any I've ever heard." He cocked his head to the side, regarding me curiously. "You speak slower, more of a drawl."

My eye twitched.

"Which is why it's called a Georgia Southern Drawl. I'm from Georgia. It's how we talk," I said, purposefully letting loose my full, rich accent onto each word until it came out. I barely restrained myself from rolling my eyes. I let my accent drop back to normal. "It's the heat in the south. It makes everything go slower, including our speech. Every state has its own accent and if you are used to southern drawls, you can tell which state someone is from simply by how they speak." I shrugged.

He nodded. "Things are much the same in Middle Earth."

I grinned. "So you believe me now?"

He nodded again, though with a smile. "It was the heavy accent that did it. I can't imagine recreating that."

I winked at him. "Not sure if I was just complimented or insulted, but I'll give you credit for the compliment."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I never did find out what he wanted to say next. At that moment, the earth started shaking so violently that I was thrown against him (didn't even step back, the bastard. I mean, I know he's 6'4 at the very least and I'm only 5'4, but he still could have had the decency to PRETEND like it hurt). He caught me and we stood there for a moment, looking around, our eyes wide in surprise.

"Eeeeeeeeek! It's an earthquake!" He looked at me like I'd grown two heads when I clung to him in fear.

Maybe the look was justified though, since I was all but climbing up his body to get off the ground.

"I've never been through an earthquake. They just don't happen in Georgia! What do we do? Something about doorframes."

He was trying (unsuccessfully) to pry me off of him when the earth lurched so violently that it sent the both of us tumbling backward.

Something told me that we wouldn't be hitting the ground in the same place we'd fallen.


	2. Strider

Disclaimer: unfortunately for me and my voices, i don't own Lord of the Rings. bursts into tears

Chapter 2

Who called it?

Yeah, that'd be me.

Yet again, we didn't land where we'd fallen.

If that makes sense.

And yes, I'm aware that it doesn't.

Anyway, I landed on a hardwood floor.

Lucky bastard got to land on the bed.

No fair.

Sitting up, I shook my head to clear it, then my eyes widened as I took in my surroundings.

"Where are we," I breathed, slowly climbing to my feet. We were in some sort of wooden shack or something. A fireplace on one wall, two chairs by the window, and a bed occupied currently by Aragorn, who was looking at me like I'd just grown horns or something.

I touched my temples just to make sure.

"Love of the Valar, you're real!"

I blinked at him.

"You're not going coocoo for Cocoa Puffs are you," I asked him, eyeing him warily. "'Cause that's _really_ inconvenient timing on your part."

"You were just a dream!"

I raised an eyebrow, then looked down at myself, then back at him, putting a hand on my hip. "Are we really back to that again? Cause we already had this debate."

"How did you get here," he demanded.

I blinked (I think I'm forming a habit). "Are you kidding? You were _just _there! Remember, I was clinging to you before the earthquake. Ringing any bells?"

"But you were a dream! It wasn't real!"

I stared at him for a moment.

He stared back in horror.

Realizing I wasn't going to get any help from him until the voices in his head stopped talking to him, I turned around and surveyed my surroundings.

The room looked eerily familiar, though I was positive I'd not seen it before. Or was I?

I frowned and stared harder around me at the fireplace, the door, the bed, the window...

The window.

Cocking my head to the side (a bad habit; my friends say I look like an intrigued bird when I do it), I moved to the window and peered out.

Dirty, paved streets wedged between buildings straight out of the Middle Ages. People moved about, scurrying home as rain fell and the day's light faded. A lone sign on the side of our building flapped in the wind. I squinted to read it.

_The Prancing Pony Inn._

My eyes bugged out of my head as I realized where we were.

"Oh my God! This is Bree! This is the room you brought Frodo to!"

The implications hit me suddenly.

If this was Bree, then this was Middle Earth. And the man really was Aragorn, son of Arathorn.

Holy shit.

I whirled around and stared at him, my eyes probably as large as Gollum's by this point.

"You're not supposed to be real," I said accusingly, waving a finger at him.

The shock hit me like a physical blow to the stomach.

"Oh dear, I'm going to faint. I never faint," I said almost apologetically as my legs gave and I blacked out.

When I came to, I stared hard at a ceiling that wasn't my own, wondering where the duce I was.

Oh.

Right.

I sat up.

Aragorn had put me on his bed.

Impressive, since I was ten or fifteen pounds overweight.

I looked at him where he was perched in a chair by the window, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, staring at me and rubbing his chin broodingly.

"You're not supposed to be real," I said accusingly again.

"Yes, you mentioned something like that."

"Well, it's true. You're not supposed to be," I said with a shrug.

"Neither are you," he said, leaning back in the chair. I pulled my knees up to my chin and wrapped my arms around them, tipping my head forward in a nod of acknowledgement.

He had a point.

"Alright, well, since we're both obviously real and very much confused, do you have any ideas of how this happened," I asked.

He sighed and rubbed his chin before standing up. He began to pace.

"At first, I assumed that you must be a witch of some sort, but you have an air of naivety around you that cannot be feigned."

My eye twitched.

Not sure that wasn't an insult.

He continued. "Then I thought that you were an elf, or a descendent of one, and that you had come through the worlds using the power of the Eldar. Then it occurred to me that the Eldar are much fairer of face and that your ears are rounded."

"Hey! Look, Sparky," I snapped in indignation, "I may not be a contestant for Miss America, but I'm no dog. Plus, I wouldn't be coming through worlds, I would be coming thousands of years back through time to a place that shouldn't even exist!"

He held his hands up to placate me. "I apologize. I meant no offense, Lady Rose. Wait, through time?"

I nodded, slightly mollified by his apology. "I'm from the year 2006. Technically, I've come backward through time." I tapped my chin as a thought occurred to me. "How are we able to understand each other?"

It was his turn to blink.

"Excuse me," he asked, startled by my abrupt change of topics.

"How are we able to understand each other," I said again. "English and Common aren't the same thing. They couldn't be. English borrows from Latin and Greece, as well as many other languages. Common wouldn't be able to, since this is a time before Rome or Greece."

He blinked again. I think my bad habits are rubbing off on him.

"I have no idea of what you speak of, Lady, but I assure you that we are both speaking Common."

I frowned, then listened closely to what we both said.

"Say something," I said, then my eyes widened. That hadn't been in English.

"What would you like me to say," he asked. My eyes widened further as I really listened.

He was right, we were speaking Common.

How was it possible to speak a language without realizing it?

I'd somehow learned Common and now my mind was translating everything we said into English before I could realize it wasn't my native tongue?

Frowning, I focused on speaking English.

It felt like a switch flipped in my head.

"Can you understand me," I asked Aragorn.

He looked at me blankly.

Well, at least I know I can speak English if I want to.

I "flipped the switch" back.

"Well, I have no idea how I'm suddenly speaking a language I've never heard before, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth," I said with a shrug.

He stared at me like I'd grown two heads.

I grinned. I got that look from people a lot.

"I'm ADD," I explained. "Attention Deficit Disorder. It means I have trouble staying focused on one thing without medication." I shrugged. "You'll get used to it. Anyway, back to what we were talking about."

He stared at me before shaking his head. "I have no idea how you got here."

I blinked.

"Well, poop."

He raised an eyebrow.

I shrugged. "My momma raised me to be a lady. I learned early on that cursing in public wasn't allowed. Anyway, I suppose that we'll just have to ask Gandalf or Elrond about how I got here. They'd probably know."

He eyed me warily, then shrugged. "I keep forgetting that you know such things. You say there were books?" At my blank look, he elaborated. "When you told me about the man who threw himself off of a mountain?"

"Yes, though they were all fiction. Or so we thought."

"What did these books say?"

I opened my mouth to tell him, then closed it, thinking better of what I was about to say. I did that several more times before I found a satisfactorily vague answer.

"Your future."

His eyes bugged out as he stared at me.

"Anyway, what are we doing in Bree," I asked, not wanting to reveal anything, but needing to know where we were in the timeline of events.

"I have no idea why _you _are here, but I am here at the behest of the wizard Gandalf. I must wait for the hobbit Frodo."

I glanced out the window where the sky was darkening with night and rain was falling, then back at him. "They will likely be here tonight. It depends."

"On?"

"On stuff I can't tell you," I said simply. "So, shall we go and wait for them in the bar," I suggested hopefully.

He looked me up and down, surveying me.

I glanced down, trying to see what he was looking at.

"Your clothes are entirely inappropriate for a woman. Besides that, I've never seen them on anyone, man or woman, and you'll stick out like a sore thumb. Wait here, I'll get you suitable clothes."

With that he left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Wow," I said to myself in the otherwise silent room. "I thought that men _willingly_ shopping were just a myth." I cocked my head to the side and stared out the window at Bree. "Then again, I suppose I'm having a lot of myths cleared up today."

Author's Note: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review. I can't improve my writing if i don't know what i'm doing right or wrong.


	3. Enter the Hobbits

Chapter 3

My hands on my hips, I glared at him, then back at what he was holding.

"Wear it, Rose," he said, his voice beleaguered.

"It's a dress," I pointed out for the fifth time, silently celebrating the fact that I'd gotten him to stop calling me Lady Rose.

With the dreaded Mary-Suedom lurking around every corner, I had to count my victories where I could.

Back to the issue at hand.

Admittedly, the dress was pretty.

Actually, since it was a black version of the "Arwen Chase Dress," it was beautiful.

But it was still a dress.

"I know it's a dress, Rose," he said with waning patience, "but you're a woman. I know what you said about women I your time," he said before I could speak, "but we're not in your time. Therefore, you have to wear a dress of some sort."

I glared at him, then at the dress, then back at him.

"Alright," I said, snatching it from his hands. He looked infinitely relieved. "But good things don't happen with me and dresses. They don't like me. Hate might actually be a better word for it. They like to trip me. A LOT. So if I trip and die, I refuse to speak to you ever again."

He chose (wisely) not to point out the obvious in what I'd just said.

Grimacing and cursing in English under my breath (so he couldn't understand) I went to the other side of the wardrobe (which was big enough that he couldn't see me).

Turns out Middle Earth dresses are ten times harder to put on than Earth dresses.

Let's just say that Aragorn learned a few new curse words that day and leave it at that.

When Aragorn (for the fifth time) asked if I was ready yet, I emerged.

All in all, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Especially since I'd kept my jeans on under the dress, as well as my beloved black and pink checkered converses.

Actually, it was quite comfortable.

I even felt pretty.

But it was still a dress.

Sighing, I gave in to the manners that my mother had drilled into me for years.

"Thank you, Aragorn, for the dress. I truly appreciate it."

My mother could die happy now.

He nodded a 'you're welcome' and gave me an appraising look.

"You'll pass for a native of Middle Earth." I winced. I sounded like an alien. Maybe I should part my fingers when I went downstairs and tell them that I came in peace. "If anyone points out your idiosyncrasies, just tell them that you are from the south. Just say a small town in Gondor, if anyone presses you for information."

I looked at him. "_You're_ aware that I'm not leaving your side, right?" At his blank look, I elaborated. "I may know you're future and a few facts about Middle Earth, but I'm in no means a scholar. I have no idea what I can and can't say."

He frowned.

Deciding that giving a man a chance to complain rarely led to good things, I grabbed his arm and led him to the door. "Good, now that that's settled, we should go."

Still frowning, he let me pull him down the stairs.

Of course, since I didn't know the layout of the inn, I inadvertently took us on a detour through the kitchens. When he pointed out that, if I'd let him lead, we'd never have gone through the kitchens and given the cook a chance to throw a cabbage at his head, I informed him that we'd merely taken the scenic route.

Because, of course, the kitchen is the most scenic place in the inn.

He sent me a look that clearly said he knew I was making it up as I went along.

I politely told him to shove it or I'd send him back to the kitchen.

Eventually, however, I did manage to find the bar.

And promptly spun around to go upstairs.

Okay, Peter Jackson, for all his genius, didn't get the Prancing Pony inn quite right.

Because in reality, it was ten times seedier than any place I'd ever been.

Let me describe the ACTUAL Prancing Pony.

In a word, I thought I was going to catch an STD or something the moment I set foot inside.

Shady men milled around, radiating hostility. The hazy air was filled with smoke and the scent of strong alcohol and several things I didn't want to think about. Fights, I could tell simply by looking the marks and multiple signs of repair on the tables and chairs, were frequent.

It was like the Middle Earth version of Tortuga, but with more dwarves and hobbits and fewer women.

No women, in fact.

Even as we watched, one a fight broke out, with one man being bodily hurled against the wall, then thrown out of the inn by Barliman Butterbur.

Something told me that this wasn't a place women frequented.

"THIS is where Gandalf chose to meet four innocent hobbits," I said incredulously. "Oh, Gandalf and I are having a chat when I meet him."

Not accepting my protests about degenerative diseases and minimum standards for sanitations, Aragorn practically dragged me to a booth over in a dark corner.

As if to prove my earlier suspicions, the entire bar went silent when I, the lone woman, entered.

Aragorn had to use his Evil!Aragorn glare (one I'd thought he reserved exclusively for me) on the entire bar to get them to go back to what they were doing.

With a look that promised vengeance if I disobeyed, he commanded me to silence.

Apparently, my charming personality and witty repartee had quickly helped him get over his chauvinistic beliefs that women were helpless or something to be coddled.

Or perhaps he'd finally discovered the secret to getting me to do stuff.

While we waited (and I tried not to touch anything. I'm not a priss, but geez!) Aragorn pulled his hood up to cover his face and lit his pipe.

Sighing, I resigned myself to a long wait and fantasized about a mass dress burning.

As it turned out, we didn't actually have long to wait.

Well, "long" being a relative term.

We waited for about an hour (an hour spent staring at the table and watching RENT in my head. Yes, I'm a geek, and yes I know it word for word) before, at long last, I heard the word "Underhill."

The hobbits had arrived.

Hallelujah.

I watched as they paid for a room in advance, then walked over to a table.

All four of them.

Apparently, this was going to follow the movies as opposed to the books. At least for now.

The hobbits even looked like the actors (which made recognition convenient).

It wasn't long before Sam noticed Aragorn watching them and pointed it out to Frodo.

Frodo glanced at us discreetly, and for a moment, our eyes met. Surprise was evident in his eyes, as well as confusion and fear.

But, I hoped, it wasn't fear of me.

I tensed when Pippin got up to get a drink, and shifted my gaze to the hobbit as he went up to the bar.

"Sure I know a Baggins! Frodo Baggins!"

As I knew he would, Frodo leapt up and hurried to Pippin. I got out of my seat with a murmured "I'll be waiting for you in the room" to Aragorn, then strode out of the room.

As soon as I left the bar and public eye, I broke into a run (impressive in a skirt, I know).

I was proud of myself. I'd only gotten lost twice.

Now that I'd gotten to the room, however, I wasn't sure what to do.

Shrugging, I sat down in the chair and peered out the darkened window, looking for the Nazgul that I was sure would soon turn up.

A few moments later, the door burst open and Aragorn hurled a comically bewildered Frodo to into the room.

Knowing what was coming, I didn't bother to rise from my chair. Aragorn began to douse the candles.

"Who are you," Frodo asked.

"Are you frightened," Aragorn asked Frodo, completely ignoring me.

Frodo hesitated, glanced at me for a moment, then answered. "Yes."

"Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you. You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo."

The door burst open again. I felt momentarily sad for Aragorn that his dramatic moment had been ruined.

"Let him go or I'll have you, Longshanks!"

I couldn't my eyebrow lifting as I saw the "weapons" the hobbits carried.

"You have a stout heart, Master Hobbit, but that will not save you."

Okay, apparently, Aragorn had just salvaged his dramatic moment.

Standing, I went to the door and, after ushering the remaining hobbits inside with a reassuring smile, shut the door.

"Now that everyone is suitably intimidated by Strider, let me reassure you that you have nothing to fear from us."

"Who are you," Frodo asked again.

I exchanged a look with Aragorn. "I am Rose, and my friend with the sword is the ranger Strider."

"How do you know of the Ring," Frodo snapped.

I glanced at Aragorn, at a loss for what to say.

Aragorn took over.

I'm still not sure exactly how he did it, but he managed to convince Frodo to stay with the two of us tonight.

I like to think that my reassuring female presence made it slightly easier.

I was still awake, gazing out the window, when I heard the Nazgul shriek their rage.

Not bothering to move anything but my eyes (it had taken me forever to get comfortable, curled up in the other chair as I was) I gazed at Aragorn.

"Who are they," Frodo asked.

I fell asleep again, listening to Aragorn's reassuring (at least to me, who knew his true character) voice as he told the story of the Ringwraiths.

7


	4. Aaand, we're walking

Chapter 4: Aaand, we're walking

I swatted at the hand that was shaking me awake from my pretty dream. In my dream, I was watching all my mountains of Spanish and Trig homework burn.

Guess who'd lit the match.

The hand kept shaking me.

Opening my eyes, I glared at Aragorn.

"Isthisreallynesary," I asked blearily, then frowned. I'm not known for my cleverness when I first wake up. I tried again. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes. Now get up," he commanded on his way to the door. "And wake up the hobbits.

I'm going to try and procure breakfast."

Nodding, I yawned and stood, raising my arms above me head in a stretch. My fingers and joints tingled from sitting in the chair all night long.

Brushing out my skirt, I went to the mirror and tried to get my hair into some semblance of order.

Semblance being the operative word.

Grimacing at my unruly mousy-brown hair, I settled for putting it into a pony tail. My bangs, which were too short to reach the pony-tail-holder and too long to be in my face, went behind my ear.

Then I turned to my makeup...or the lack thereof.

I hadn't had a chance to wash off my makeup yet, and my mascara was smudged beneath my eyes. Using my finger, I wiped it off. The (rather convenient) effect was that it gave me a sort of eye liner and brought out my light blue eyes, which was good, since all of my other makeup had worn off. Unlike Mary-Sues, I didn't have the perfect peaches n' cream complexion, and blemishes were frequent. It's why I'd always thought my eyes were my best feature.

I studied myself in the mirror.

I wasn't a dog, but, as I'd told Aragorn, I wasn't a contestant for Miss America either. I had plain mousy brown hair that, on the rare occasion I took it out of a pony-tail, just brushed my shoulders (cause I was too lazy to deal with it). Unfortunately, my hair was oilier than most people's and after 24 hours without a shower, it was turning greasy.

Though, admittedly, not as greasy as Aragorn's.

I snickered to myself.

At only 5'4, I'd resigned myself to the fact that I would never be statuesque. Luckily, I'd had Physical Fitness in school recently (as a required class) and our teacher was also the track coach. Needless to say, our class could run a mile after the first two or so weeks. While I'd prayed for an end to gym, it had left me more toned and I'd lost some weight. I'd always been the fat kid in class, but at long last I'd achieved an hourglass figure, though it was still a bit curvier than some other women's.

My eyes though, were the one thing that I was most proud of. Even when I was really self-conscious about the rest of my body (which was most of the time), I'd always taken pride in my eyes. They were large (from my mother's family) and icy blue (from my father's side). My lashes were blond at the tips, making them look short when I didn't have mascara on, but they were thick.

After surveying myself in the mirror and lamenting the lack of a shower, I turned and, barely managing not to trip on the skirt, turned to the bed, wondering how I should go about waking the hobbits.

After a moment of deliberation, I settled on the way my mother had always woken me. If that didn't work, I could always resort to the way she'd woken my older brothers.

I snickered again and hoped they wouldn't wake up the first time.

Walking to the bed, I gently brushed the hair out of Frodo's face and touched his shoulder.

"Frodo," I said. "Wake up, Frodo."

His eyes opened and he looked at me blearily. "Rose?"

Damn, I wasn't going to be able to jump on the bed and scream after all.

Oh, well, there was still the other three.

"It's time to get up," I said quietly in response to Frodo's questioning gaze. "Strider's gone to find breakfast."

He nodded and got up, stretching and yawning. I moved to the others.

"Sam," I said, brushing hair out of his face and touching his shoulder like I'd done Frodo, "time to get up."

His eyes opened and he stared at my, his eyes clearing as he woke.

Damn. Only two left.

Sitting on the bed where Sam had just been, I leaned over and touched Merry's shoulder.

"Wake up, Merry."

Son of a –

His eyes opened and he yawned, stretching. He looked at me, his eyes still hazy with sleep, before getting out of bed.

Resigning myself to disappointment, I touched Pippin's shoulder and said his name.

Nothing.

I tried again, louder, just to make sure.

He didn't wake up.

At that point, I'm pretty sure my face lit up with glee.

Getting up off the bed, I positioned myself so that I wouldn't land on him, then, taking a running start, launched myself at the bed.

"WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!"

I landed so hard that Pippin actually bounced. He jerked awake.

And promptly fell out of bed.

I barely kept myself from doubling over with laughter.

God, my mother sometimes has the most brilliant ideas.

O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.

Aaaaaaaaaand, we're walking.

And not talking.

Correction: Strider and I weren't talking.

The hobbits were talking rather loudly.

About Aragorn and me.

"How do we know they are truly friend to Gandalf," Merry asked, in a tone I'm sure he

thought was hushed.

"I think servants of the enemy would look fairer and feel fouler," Frodo answered in an equally "hushed" voice.

Did they just call me ugly?

Aragorn and I exchanged a glance.

"They're foul enough," Merry retorted.

Yep, they did.

Merry is SO on my shit list now.

"We have no choice but to trust them," Frodo said.

"But where is he leading us?" This was from Sam.

"To Rivendell, Master Gamgee, to the house of Lord Elrond," I said before Aragorn could.

"Did you hear that? Rivendell! We're going to see the Elves!"

This time, I was in the lead.

I'd gotten several feet ahead before I realized Aragorn had stopped and was talking to the hobbits.

"Strider," I called out, "what's the hold-up?"

He glanced back at me. With a last look at the hobbits, he turned and followed me, hesitated, then threw an apple over his shoulder.

"Pippin," Merry said, exasperated.

I grinned, realizing what the hold-up had been.

"Ahh. Monsieur Amon Sul, it has been a long time since last we met," I said, putting on a fake French accent as we approached the former watchtower.

By this time, everyone was so used to my less-than-sane behavior, so I didn't even receive any looks.

"This was the great watchtower of Amon Sûl. We shall rest here tonight," Aragorn informed us.

I stared at the watchtower, my head cocked to the side (a habit I REALLY need to break).

So THIS was where the shit would hit the fan.

As we got closer, I realized that it was ten times bigger in person than it ever could have been in the movies.

Which, I realized with a groan, meant stairs.

And, yet again, we were walking.

Up the equivalent of 5 flights of stairs.

I'm going to kill Aragorn.

Slowly.

With a Grape Fruit knife.

At long last, we reached the top. Sam dropped his bag (I felt sorry for the poor man. I'd offered to carry some, since I didn't own anything that I could carry, but he'd declined).

Aragorn handed out swords.

Guess who was the only one who didn't get one.

Apparently, I hadn't QUITE rid Aragorn of his chauvinistic view on women.

"Um...Strider, I need a weapon."

He looked at me in confusion as the hobbits looked indignant. I realized too late that I'd just challenged (in their eyes, at least) their ability to protect me.

"You're a woman. Women have no need to bear arms. Besides," he said, gesturing to himself and the hobbits, "you have protection."

I gave him a subtle look.

"Now that that is settled, I'm going to have a look around. Stay here," he said, before getting up and leaving.

Apparently, my look was TOO subtle.

Warily, I looked at the hobbits.

"Um...don't light any fires, k?"

"Why not, milady," Pippin asked. Understanding lit his eyes suddenly, and he cocked his head to the side. "Are you afraid of fire?"

I blinked in surprise. "What?! No! Of course not," I snapped indignantly, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "And don't call me Lady. Lady Rose sounds like a drag queen or something."

Sam gave me a sympathetic look.

"Worry not, milady. Your secret is safe with us," he said, patting my arm.

"I am NOT afraid of fire," I protested.

The four of them exchanged a look.

Oh, for the love of...

"Let's make camp," Frodo suggested, tactfully changing the subject.

By sheer dent of will, I resisted the urge to childishly grab a pebble and throw it at them.

I should get an award for that alone.

Instead, I sat cross legged on the ground.

"So," I said as they all started unpacking their things, "tell me about the Shire."

Simultaneously, their eyes lit up. For all they were well over 23 at the youngest, they looked like small children again.

I grinned.

We spent three hours talking about the Shire, and I learned of Bilbo's party (which was still being talked about in the Shire, even 17 years later) and of the old Gaffer, Bilbo, and

Tom Bombadil.

When we started talking about the Green Dragon, Merry, Pippin, and Frodo started singing:

"Hey, ho, to the bottle I go,  
To heal my heart and drown my woe!  
Rain may fall and wind may blow,  
But there still be many miles to go!

Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain,  
And stream that falls from hill to plain!  
Better than rain or rippling brook,  
Is a mug of beer inside this Took!"

I burst into laughter as I watched them dance and sing.

"What about you, Lady Rose," Sam asked. Still grinning from ear to ear and wiping tears of laughter from my eyes, I turned to him.

"What about me, Sam?"

"Your land. Where do you live? What is it like?"

Ooh, I hadn't anticipated this.

"Uh, for me, the grief is still to near," I said, inadvertently channeling Legolas in my haste to come up with an excuse. "Maybe later."

Frodo yawned, and stretched.

"I believe I shall retire for the night," he said, tactfully changing the subject again.

"Me, too. All the walking has worn me out," I said, leaning back and rolling to my side.

The other three nodded and gave their good 'nights.

I fell asleep listening to their chatter.


	5. Flight to the Ford

5

Chapter 5: Amon Sul

And woke up listening to Frodo's yelling.

"Put it out, you fools! Put it out!"

Blearily, I opened my eyes, then shot bolt upright, realizing what was happening.

"Oh my God," I breathed.

"Oh, that's nice. Ash on my tomatoes," Pippin complained.

An unearthly (or unMiddle-Earthy?) shriek sliced the air like a knife.

Of course I'd think of blades at a time like this.

Mentally cursing my choice of words, I darted up the stairs after the hobbits.

To find the Nazgul already surrounding them.

Hastily, I ran in front of Frodo.

"Back, you Devils," Sam yelled before being tossed to the side like a doll.

Merry and Pippin closed the gap in front of Frodo, but were tossed aside like they weighed nothing.

I was left alone in front of Frodo.

Then I wasn't in front of him, as I was shoved aside.

Frodo's sword clattered to the ground.

The Nazgul raised his sword and Frodo fell to his knees, crying out, "O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!"

And I, ever the fool, jumped in front of the dagger.

Hindsight's 20/20, and I realized too late that it would have been smarter to push him off balance rather than insert myself between the two.

Not anticipating my sudden appearance between him and his prey, the Nazgul's dagger pierced my shoulder, instead of Frodo's.

I screamed as more pain than I've ever known engulfed my shoulder.

Ow.

Dimly, I saw Aragorn use his ninja-like butt-kicking skills to drive the Nazgul away.

The Nazgul withdrew the blade from my shoulder and ran.

I blinked away tears of pain and suddenly, Aragorn was by my side, the hobbits crowding around us.

"Why did you do that," Frodo asked desperately, looking like he wanted to cry.

Hell, I had no idea. A smarter person would have known to just push the Nazgul off balance.

Then again, I'm not the brightest crayon in the box.

"She's been stabbed by a Morgul blade." He held the blade up, his expression grim as it dissolved. "This is beyond my skill to heal. She needs Elvish medicine." He lifted me into his arms. "Hurry," he commanded the others.

Just in case you were wondering what I was thinking at this moment: Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow.

"We're six days from Rivendell! She'll never make it," Sam yelled.

"Hang on, Rose," Aragorn whispered to me.

For the next several hours (or maybe days. I have no idea) I drifted in and out of consciousness.

I didn't know what was worse: being awake to feel the agony, or being asleep to see the Great Eye of Sauron commanding me to his side.

The hobbits tried to keep me awake by telling me of the Shire, the exploits of Merry and Pippen. Eventually we reached the Trollshaws and they began to tell me of Bilbo and the Dwarves.

Whenever the Nazgul cried out, I couldn't help shrieking back to them in answer.

What scared the shit out of me was the fact that, more and more, I could understand what the Nazgul were saying, and the hobbits less and less.

Apparently, I wasn't as strong at resisting darkness as Frodo had been. He'd still been coherent and able to speak. At least, he was in the books.

I overheard Sam speaking of his doubts about Strider with the other hobbits.

When Aragorn suddenly appeared out of the shadows, Sam leapt to his feet and, brandishing his small sword, put himself between Aragorn and me.

"I am not a Black Rider, Sam," Aragorn placated the hobbit, "nor in league with them. I have been trying to discover something of their movements; but I have found nothing. I cannot think why they have gone and do not attack again. But there is no feeling of their presence anywhere at hand."

Aragorn knelt beside me and, taking what I assumed was Athelas out of his pouch, put some of the healing leaves into my wound.

Still, I drifted in and out of consciousness as we traveled.

We were on the Road, looking for a place to rest, when Aragorn and the hobbits suddenly began to get agitated and tense. Aragorn took us off the road. I was so out of it, I couldn't figure out why until the rider was upon us.

Immediately, everyone relaxed as a figure that seemed to glow white approached.

Aragorn leapt out of the bushes, with me still cradled in his arms.

Dimly, I heard a voice as pure as white snow and as warm as a Georgia summer.

"_Ai na vedui Dunadan! Mae govannen!"_

Enter the Balrog-slayer Glorfindel, the Elf-Lord.

Aragorn swiftly introduced the hobbits.

I tuned out as my shoulder gave a sudden sharp protest to nothing in particular. The agony forced me to shut my eyes and try not to vomit.

Suddenly, Glorfindel was prodding my wound, and he looked worried. Not a good expression to bolster confidence. But, even as his prodding agitated the wound, I felt warmth spread from where he touched and the pain and nausea eased a little.

A haze that I hadn't even realized was there vanished and I could see clearly again.

"Strider," Glorfindel called. Aragorn knelt beside him where I lay on the ground. "I believe that Frodo and the girl must take my horse. The horse can easily bear them both, and it is Frodo that is hunted by the Wraiths. If the Nine should come, Asfaloth will bear them to safety."

Aragorn nodded and stood.

"Frodo," Glorfindel said, picking me up off the ground and setting me astride the horse, "you shall ride my horse. I will shorten the stirrups up to the saddle-skirts, and you must sit as tight as you can. But you need not fear: my horse will not let any rider fall that I command him to bear. His pace is light and smooth; and if danger presses too near, he will bear you away with a speed that even the black steeds of the enemy cannot rival."

"No, he will not!" protested Frodo. "I shall not ride him, if I am to be carried off to Rivendell or anywhere else, leaving my friends behind in danger."

Glorfindel smiled. "I doubt very much if your friends would be in danger if you were not with them. The pursuit would follow you and leave us in peace, I think. It is you, Frodo, and that which you bear that brings us all in peril."

Frodo just got owned by Glorfindel. I snickered mentally.

In a day, we covered more than twenty miles before we came to rest. In those twenty miles, I went from sitting up on my own, though slumped over, to sagging against Frodo and shivering as cold such as I have never known seemed to spread from my very bones.

Glorfindel yelled something at us, and suddenly we took off as Frodo leaned forward (I was behind him) to control the horse.

The Wraiths had come.

And they were gaining on us.

Frodo, in a surge of brilliance, urged the horse faster. "Noro lim! Noro lim, Asfaloth!"

The horse broke its canter and seemed instead to fly across the ground, its hooves barely touching the dirt.

As the floods from the (very creatively named) Loudwater rushed to engulf the black riders, whose horses had been driven mad and run into the water, I felt myself losing consciousness.


	6. of Boromir and traitors

13

Disclaimer: Refer to chapter one.

Author's Note: Thankies to all my beauteous reviewers! Y'all are my favorite people EVER. When I take over the world, you can each pick your own countries.

There's a quote from The Parent Trap in here. Here's a cookie if you can spot it!

Chapter 6: Rivendell

When I woke up, Elrond was standing over me.

Scared the shit out of us both, since he wasn't expecting me to open my eyes, I suppose.

"Who," I started, then recognition hit me. Don't know why I didn't see it before. He looks exactly like the actor.

He bowed anyway.

"I am Lord Elrond of Imladris. Welcome to Rivendell, Rose."

"Aragorn has spoken to you then," I said.

"Yes, _Lord_ Aragorn has spoken to me," Elrond said, gently admonish me for speaking without titles. "How are you feeling?"

I gently moved my shoulder, and realized it was wrapped up. "Only a small twinge when I move it." I looked at him, impressed. "Thank you."

He nodded. "The pain medicine must be wearing off then, for you shouldn't be feeling anything at all."

"It is not yet fully healed, nor do I believe it ever will be. I would, however, like you to wear a sling for a few days, at the very least," he said.

then frowned as something occurred to me.

"I must have been asleep for a long time for it to be this healed," I said, thinking aloud. He frowned, not recognizing the slang. "'out' means asleep," I clarified. "What day is it?"

"It is the morning of October the twenty-fourth."

The same day Frodo would have woken up.

I hope I'm not going to follow in his footsteps exactly; good things don't happen to him.

'Cause Lord knows, my goal in life has always been to throw a Ring o' Doom into an evil volcano.

He held out an innocent-looking bottle and poured it into a spoon I hadn't noticed on the beside table. "For right now, you must take medicine that will aid in your recovery. You must take this every hour or so, to help with the pain."

He handed me the spoon and I put it into my mouth.

And promptly tried not to gag as the taste hit my tongue.

The look on my face must have been hilarious, because Elrond's lips twitched a little as he watched.

Wordlessly, he handed me a glass of water that I immediately snatched out of his hand and chugged, doing everything I could to get the taste out of my mouth.

Handing him back the glass, I closed my eyes and shuddered.

"I think...I think I just...I think I just drank tar," I said slowly, trying not to gag on the lingering taste.

I nodded.

Yep, that was tar. Maybe some paint stripper mixed in, but tar was definitely an ingredient.

"Other than the sling, can I get up and get dressed," I asked Elrond.

He nodded.

"In pants," I added hopefully.

Surely taking a hit (or stab?) for the home team earned one some leeway in the wardrobe department.

He looked at me, one eyebrow arching incredulously. "Leggings are entirely inappropriate for women."

Then again, I've been wrong before.

"No," I said stubbornly, my sense of self-preservation overcoming any need to be polite, "no dresses. I refuse. I fell FIVE times in Bree cause of that stupid dress. The stupid things are a health hazard!" I crossed my arms in front of my chest, refusing to give in.

Ten minutes later, cursing a blue streak in English, I struggled one-armed into a pale blue dress.

As gracefully as I could (which is to say, I fell twice on the way to my bedroom door...and the room wasn't THAT big), I walked down the hall.

After wandering for half an hour (and passing the same statue five times. I know it was the same one, because on the third pass, I marked it), I found myself in the Dining Hall.

Suddenly, I felt like a freshman at lunch on the first day of school, where you don't know anyone there, and have to eat by yourself.

Sighing, I turned around and resigned myself to getting lost on the way back to my room, and tucked my bangs behind me ear.

When I touched my ear, I felt my cartilage piercing.

That's not a big thing for most people, but to me, it was hugely symbolic.

I'd always been the good-girl who never talked back to her elders, never made any trouble, never did anything out of the ordinary. I rarely spoke, and was miserable, though I didn't know why.

But, when I reached High School, something happened.

I came into my own, then, and started thinking outside the box, refusing to conform or do anything simply because someone said to. It was then that I'd met my best friend for the first time, and a few months after that, we'd gone to get cartilage piercings together.

It had taken serious guts for me to do that, since it was the first thing I'd ever done that could have lasting consequences if it was a mistake.

I'd never felt so nervous, but never more as proud as that day when I went home to show my parents.

Both my best friend and I had gotten into serious trouble, but neither of us had ever regretted it.

It may be small, but it meant a lot to me.

It meant I was no longer that girl in the corner.

I took a firm grip on my courage and turned back around, calmly entering the dining hall, putting a smile on my face.

Spotting a man sitting alone at the end of one table, I walked over, still keeping my smile on.

In the folds of my skirt, I crossed my fingers and said a little prayer.

Then, not giving myself time to chicken out though my heart was in my throat, I took a seat as gracefully as I could beside him.

'As gracefully as I could' meaning that I tripped and more or less fell into my seat.

He looked up, startled, though the corner of his lip twitched as he noticed how...um..._elegantly _I sat down.

_Oh shit_, was my first thought when I saw his face.

Of _course _I'd pick Boromir, I thought dryly. He's the only one I'd had a crush on since I saw the movies.

"You're new here, too, huh," I asked with what I hoped was a friendly grin and not a tense baring of teeth. "Glad to see I'm not the only one. I'm Rose."

He smiled back.

It was a good thing I was sitting down, because I swear my knees turned to jelly at that smile.

"As am I," he said, still smiling, his grey eyes grinning warmly at me. "I am Boromir, Captain of Gondor," he introduced himself.

Forgetting all that I'd ever learned about old-fashioned manners, I held out my hand to shake.

He kissed it instead.

His lips on my skin felt like small licks of flame.

Mentally, I groaned at my own fan-girliness.

For the love of all that's holy, I didn't even _know_ the man. He could be a complete jerk, for all I knew!

"A pleasure, my Lady," he said, releasing my hand.

I was immensely proud of myself when my voice didn't waver at all as I responded, "The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, my Lord."

Ha! I even remembered to put his title at the end.

My mental Rose did a small victory dance.

"I have never heard an accent like yours, milady. Where are you from," he asked conversationally.

My mental Rose stopped dancing and swore to enroll in speech classes.

"Umm." Come on, _THINK_, Rose! "I'm from Gondor."

Upon hearing the verbal vomit that came out of my mouth, Mental Rose had a heart attack and keeled over.

Boromir looked surprised.

I'm pretty sure I did too.

"Truly? From what region, for surely I would have recalled hearing such a unique accent," he said, his curiosity peeked.

I wasn't sure what would be more disastrous: me flatly refusing to answer his question, or answering his question.

"One of the many small islands off of the coast. We are very secluded, and tend to stay within our own boundaries," I improvised quickly, praying that there WERE actually islands off the coast of Gondor.

He nodded and I breathed a mental sigh of relief.

"Perhaps I have heard of it. What is the name of your fair island," he asked.

I mentally choked on my sigh of relief.

"Atlantis," I answered, saying the first thing that came to mind. My mind had come up with Atlanta (my hometown) and made the leap to the Lost Empire, since the names were so similar.

Mentally, I closed my eyes and groaned.

Why has no one shut me up yet?

Mental Rose, apparently not dead just yet, sat up and asked me incredulously what the HELL was wrong with me, then calmly lay back down and closed her eyes again.

Boromir looked disappointed. "I have not heard of Atlantis, though it is perhaps because I have not yet visited all of the islands of our fair country."

"There are many," I said, wondering if it was possible to resuscitate a mental mini-me. "Tell me of the White City, for I have not yet been to our fair Minis Tirith," I said, hastily changing the subject.

His eyes lit up with such love and pride that I swear my knees would have collapsed if I'd been standing.

Mental Rose cracked one eye open, warily looking to see if the danger that came from me speaking had passed.

"You must someday come to the White City," he said, love and pride clear in his voice. "There is nothing else in the world that can create such a feeling as being called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets, the tower of Ecthelion glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, the banners caught high in the morning breeze."

A small part of me wished someone would speak that way about me, but I quickly squished that part, not willing to go down that road.

I did know where he was coming from, though. I often felt the same way about my home in Atlanta.

A part of my heart was ripped out as I realized with horror and sorrow that I might never see my city or family again.

"Rose!"

Relieved to be distracted from my thoughts, I turned around to see the hobbits walking towards me.

I stood up hastily, glad to see a familiar face at last.

"Merry! Pippin! Frodo! Sam!" Kneeling, I hugged them, unable to keep myself from grinning ear to ear.

I'd only known them for a while, but they have a tendency to grow on you quicker than I can put my foot in my mouth.

"How are you feeling," Frodo asked. His eyes, filled with guilt, glanced at my bandage and sling.

"I'm fine," I said, then looked at him warily. "You aren't going to go on the whole 'you shouldn't have done that, how can I ever repay you' thing are you? Cause I hate that, and would be forced to make sarcastic remarks to cover up my discomfort."

Not expecting this, Frodo burst out into startled laughter.

"Come on," I said, still grinning cheekily, "I want you to meet someone."

I led them back to Boromir, who stood and bowed.

"Sorry for leaving so suddenly, but I hadn't seen my friends for several days," I said with a smile. "Lord Boromir of Gondor, this is Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took, and Meriadoc Bradybuck, hobbits of the Shire." The hobbits bowed as they were introduced.

Something flickered in Boromir's eyes as I knowingly watched, but he quickly masked it and bowed again as he was introduced and we took our seats.

I gasped, drawing their attention to me in concern.

Across the room, I saw Elrond talking to an elf, clearly on his way to find me.

That wasn't what scared me.

It was the deceivingly "innocent" bottle in his hands that scared me.

With any luck, he hadn't seen me yet.

I looked around me frantically for a hiding place.

My eyes landed on the table.

I dove for cover.

"Rose," Frodo questioned, concerned and slightly amused.

"I'm not here," I hissed, yanking the table cloth back into place to hide me. "If he asks, you never saw me. Don't even know who I am."

"What—," Boromir began, but I interrupted him before he could finish.

"Shh," I hissed. "Just...I don't know... keep talking to each other like nothing's wrong."

There was a brief pause, then I heard definite chortling coming from Pippin.

"So, Lord Boromir," he began, his voice mischievous, "have you ever seen Lady Rose walk in a dress?"

"Yes," Boromir responded, his voice confused.

I could practically hear the laughter in Pippin's voice.

"Not a pretty sight is it? I thought ladies were supposed to be graceful, but she is just the opposite. I've seen toddlers walk with more grace," he said, holding back laughter.

Oh, Pippin was SO on my shit list.

I grit my teeth as Boromir caught on to the game.

"A truer comparison I've never heard," he said, his deep voice rumbling with suppressed laughter. "Have you ever seen her take a seat? I didn't want to say anything in her presence, but if she can barely walk, I must say I am eternally grateful that she does not wield a weapon."

My mouth fell open and I gave an indignant squawk that I quickly stifled.

He didn't just say that.

Locating his foot beneath the table, I smacked his leg.

He roared with laughter.

"Lord Boromir, I am glad to see you've made yourself at home in Imladris," said Elrond's smooth elven voice.

I held my breath.

"Yes, I find your city immensely inviting," he responded, humor still tinged in his voice. "It has been long since I've seen so _graceful_ a city. You keep this city a well-_hidden_ secret."

I smacked his leg, knowing exactly what he was doing.

"We are glad to have such an honored guest. If there is anything you need, please feel free to ask," I heard Elrond say politely.

"Master Baggins, have you seen Lady Rose recently," Elrond said, turning to the hobbits.

I grit my teeth. Rose, not LADY Rose. They make it sound like a drag name.

"I remember seeing her very recently," Frodo said, stifling his laughter. "But I do not know where she has _hidden_ herself."

"Shouldn't be too hard to find her, though," Merry added, laughter in his voice, "just follow the sounds of things breaking and her cursing."

I squawked again indignantly, then hastily stifled it.

"What was that," Elrond asked.

"Oh, it was nothing of consequence," Boromir said. The double meaning wasn't lost on me. "Though it did sound _close_."

Calmly, I placed the heel of my hand on his instep and _leaned_ part up my weight on it warningly.

The laughter in his voice increased.

"Probably nothing more than some _bothersome insect_ that needs _swatting_."

I leaned harder.

By this time, the hobbits had started laughing.

"Indeed, it sounds close," Frodo added. "Perhaps the insect is under the table."

Frodo, who had foolishly sat down, yelped slightly as he received a quick slap on his furry hobbit feet, which he quickly withdrew.

Evidently, Elrond had looked askance of him, because he suddenly said "oh, nothing, I just think the insect bit me."

I heard Elrond and another voice speaking in Elvish for a moment.

"Indeed," said Elrond, his dry voice indicating he knew something was going on, but was willing to let them have their fun. "Well, I must excuse myself, for I have pressing matters that need to be attended to. I bid you good day."

Hearing their murmured goodbyes, I waited until I heard footsteps walking away before I chanced talking.

"Is he gone," I hissed.

"Yes," Frodo replied with a laugh.

Hesitantly, I crawled out on my hands and knees.

And ran into Aragorn's legs.

An amused Aragorn.

Who was holding the bottle of medicine brewed specially to torture me.

"Not possible," I said desperately.

Aragorn calmly handed me the bottle and spoon as everyone laughed.

"Traitors," I muttered, casting glares at all of them.

Grimacing and muttering about the various methods of torture I'd like to try on them, I sat down in the chair Frodo offered me and, sending them one last glare o' death, downed the vile concoction in one gulp.

And, unable to help it, gagged on the taste.

Yep, still tasted like tar.

And horse droppings.

Among other things I didn't want to think about.

After having a coughing fit, I calmly set the bottle on the table, then looked up at them each in turn.

"All of you are now officially on my list," I said primly, then with all the dignity I could muster, walked out.

And didn't trip once.

Unfortunately, my dignified exit was ruined when Aragorn called out, still laughing, "Elrond and Gandalf are waiting in the library for you."

I didn't even bother switching to English when I cursed.

Author's Note: Unless the review button made a "yo' momma" joke that you took particular offense to, then pressing it would make me IMMENSELY happy.

Also, since my sister is back in town, I'm not going to be posting anything till after the holidays. I know. I'm evil cackles maniacally


	7. Elrond's Council of DOOM

Disclaimer: see chapter 1 

Author's Note: I hope everyone had safe and happy holidays, and hope everyone HAS a safe and happy New Years. Good news! I got a laptop for Christmas, so now I can write anywhere!!! Yay! Now on to the story!

By the time I actually FOUND the library (not nearly as easy as it looks. Rivendell is a freaking labyrinth) I had given myself a headache.

But it wasn't from stressing about Gandalf and Elrond.

I wasn't actually all that scared of what Gandalf and Elrond would say.

That wasn't what I was worried about.

I was worried about why I was here.

If they were truly wise, they wouldn't want me to change history.

But if I wasn't supposed to change history, then why was I here?

And if I was supposed to change history, wouldn't that change the world I'd grown up in?

And if I changed the world I was from, then what would happen if I inadvertently prevented one of my ancestors from being born? Then I wouldn't be born.

But if I wasn't born, then I couldn't change history to prevent myself from being born.

If I remembered correctly, the theory I was stressing over was called the Grandfather Paradox.

Stupid Grandfather Paradox.

Yeah, now you know why I had a headache.

I need to stop thinking. Good things don't happen when I think too hard.

Sighing and rubbing the bridge of my nose tiredly, I pushed open the door to the immense library.

Normally (being a geek and a notorious book-worm) I would have promptly started to drool over the sheer amount of books the elves had accumulated.

As it was, I simply wanted some Advil and to punch something a little out of frustration.

Unfortunately, I didn't get either as I soon spotted Elrond and Gandalf in quiet conversation at a small table.

I walked over to the table (and, for once, actually stayed on my feet the entire time).

"Lord Elrond, Master Gandalf," I said by way of greeting. They stood and bowed respectfully.

A look from Gandalf and I realized I was supposed to do something.

Awkwardly, I executed some sort of...i don't even think there's a word for it.

It shamed the word "curtsey."

Elrond held out my chair and waited until I was seated before they took their own seats.

"Ah, this is the Lady Rose I have heard so much of from Aragorn and the hobbits," Gandalf said with a warm grin.

"And you must be Gandalf," I said, returning the grin with my friendliest smile (gimme a break: I didn't think it could hurt to get him to like me) though I knew exactly who he was. "The hobbits speak highly of you, especially of your fireworks. I admit that I was slightly nervous about meeting someone who was held in such high regard."

Gandalf laughed and patted my hand, though his eyes were keen and scrutinizing as they surveyed me. Something about him made me feel like he was listening to more than my words.

Which is a creepy feeling, I assure you.

Warily, I dragged my eyes slowly from the wizard, and turned to Elrond.

"Now, let's get down to business. I don't like to dance around an issue, and I highly doubt you called me here to chat. You said that Aragorn had spoken with you; what did he say," I said, my (admittedly) take-charge personality coming to the front, something that always happened when I was feeling threatened.

I don't care what anyone says: No one is comfortable when they feel like they aren't able to keep things to themselves.

And it felt like Gandalf could see all my secrets.

Elrond nodded, only the arched eyebrow betraying his surprise that a woman, a young mortal woman at that, had taken charge of the situation.

"He told me of the 'dream' the two of you shared, as well as your sudden appearance here." Elrond paused and looked me dead in the eye, his wise and knowing gaze piercing me. "He also spoke of the foresight you say you possess."

I met his gaze levelly and without fear; I had done nothing wrong, ergo, I had nothing to be afraid of.

"I wouldn't jump straight to foresight. My knowledge comes from fantasy books written by a man named J.R.R. Tolkien. At least, we thought they were fantasy. Obviously, I've been proven wrong," I said gesturing around me. "He wrote about a lot of things concerning Middle Earth, but I am most familiar with the past, present, and future of the One Ring and the events surrounding it."

"How much do you know about it," Gandalf asked, leaning forward.

My mental hackles went up when I realized he was trying to intimidate me.

I'd grown up as the only girl in a family with 4 older alpha-male brothers (apparently, I was the only one not COOL enough or something for the height gene).

He'd have to do better than that.

I calmly looked him dead in the eye. "When it comes to the Ring's past, I can tell you almost as much as Saruman. When it comes to the Ring's present, you and I are even. But when it comes to the Ring's future, my knowledge is unparalleled." I leaned forward, meeting his gaze levelly. "So don't try to intimidate me. I may be young and naive, but I am no fool. I'm from the future; I know EXACTLY what will happen."

Alright, I admit, I can be a little defensive at times.

Elrond sent Gandalf a look that clearly said 'stop pissing off the mortal.'

"Mithrandir meant no offense, child. He has a somewhat suspicious nature, and can get hot-tempered easily. For now, we have other matters that need to be addressed."

Simultaneously, still keeping our eyes locked, Gandalf and I slowly leaned back in our chairs.

Sadly, it was Gandalf who took the higher road and broke our little moment o' immaturity.

"We are acting like children," he sighed. "I apologize, Lady Rose. It was merely my intention to judge your truthfulness and protect those I love, not to intimidate you."

Knowing that I had to take the high road (albeit grudgingly), I nodded. "I'm sorry too. I was too quick to take offense. I should have seen that you were merely trying to protect everyone."

"How far in the future are you from," Gandalf asked.

"I do not know. Everyone thought this," I absent-mindedly gestured around me, keeping my gaze on his, "wasn't real. And, as you measure time differently than we do, I have no idea when these events are in the history we learned in school."

"Perhaps, if we work _together_," Elrond hinted oh-so-subtly, "we can figure out the time difference."

"When I left, it was 2006."

Gandalf's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

In that second, as I wished desperately for a camera, I truly realized for the first time exactly what "a Kodak moment" really was.

I pretended to cough in order to cover up a laugh.

"What year is it in this world," I asked, doing my damndest not to laugh.

"The year is 3018, which would put you behind us," Elrond said calmly, leaning back in his chair.

I cocked my head to the side as a thought occurred to me.

"No," I said slowly, thinking out loud. "After the birth of Jesus Christ, we started counting again. After that, we numbered backwards the years before His birth. So, if we say that Queen Cleopatra reigned in 69-30 B.C., then this would also count as B.C. You'd only need to add." I did rapid calculations in my head. "5024. Check my math."

There was a pause, then Elrond said "that is correct."

"So, theoretically, there is only 5024 years between us." I frowned. "That can't be right. That puts us at the same time as the Iceman and the first civilizations."

"The Iceman," Elrond asked.

I gestured absentmindedly, caught up in my own thoughts. "A few years ago, they discovered a man frozen in ice and calculated that he'd been dead for over 5,000 years. It was the end of the last Ice Age. There were no true civilizations: people were only just beginning to live in villages together."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, trying to get rid of my headache, which had gone from mild to bad.

I hate thinking.

"The exact number of years isn't important," Gandalf said dismissively. "I doubt it is even possible to calculate, as I'm sure we have vastly different calendars."

"True. What IS important is how I got here, why, and what I'm supposed to do now," I said.

"Indeed. Tell us what you remember of your journey," Elrond said.

I frowned and shivered as I remembered the accident that never took place.

"There was no journey. One moment I was on my way home, a drunk driver swerved into my lane, but before we could crash, I blinked and I was in this dream world. Or, at least, I assume it was a dream world. I was standing on a cliff face, the stormy ocean before me, and mountains to my back. I met Aragorn there, and we bickered about who had brought whom to the dreamscape. Then there was an earthquake, and I grabbed him. We fell back, but didn't land on the ground of the cliff. He woke up in his bed where he'd been asleep, but I woke up on the floor of a room I'd only seen in movies."

"Movies?"

I didn't know who'd spoken as wrapped up as I was in memory.

"Animated pictures. They tell stories, and one of them portrayed the War of the Ring. It's one of the ways I recognize many of the people I meet."

I yanked myself out of the memory of seeing that huge Semi swerve into my lane and realizing that I was going to die.

That I would never see my mother, father, or over-protective older brothers again.

I took a gasping breath and closed my eyes, clenching my teeth and steeling my resolve.

I never cried in front of people, and I certainly wasn't about to start now.

Straightening my back, I opened my eyes and clasped my hands on the table in front of my.

I'd have time to mourn when I got back to my room.

"After that, I met the hobbits. I've tried to keep things as they are supposed to be, but I had to save Frodo from the Ring-wraith. He didn't deserve that, or the crap that would have happened to him later." I brought my chin up at Elrond's disapproving frown. "I'd do it again if I had to."

Gandalf sent Elrond a warning look and patted my hand. "We do not think you used anything but your best judgment on the matter, my dear."

Elrond nodded, his frown softening into a kind smile. "Indeed, you have our faith."

"How did I get here," I asked suddenly, trying to change the subject. "Theoretically, it's impossible to Time Travel. The Grandfather Paradox proves that."

"The Grandfather Paradox," Gandalf asked with a frown.

"It's the unanswerable question." I leaned back in my chair again, gesturing lazily with my hands. What can I say? I talk with my hands. "Suppose you went back in time and killed your grandfather. Well, if your grandfather dies, then you'd never be born. But if you weren't born, how could you go back in time and kill your grandfather? See?"

They nodded, both frowning.

"I have no answer to that, child. I do not believe anyone does. The only question we can answer is what to do now," Elrond said, his voice and wise eyes reassuringly warm and kind.

I admit, even though I'd always been one to take charge when needed, it was reassuring to have someone else take the reigns.

"You will come to the Council to be held tomorrow. All races will be represented there, and I believe it is only fitting that one from the future should have their say. If anyone asks how you possess your knowledge, merely say that you are a Seer. It will tie up any questions."

I grimaced even as I nodded.

Yay, I was becoming the Mary-Sue.

Maybe I could go die my hair blond and grow a bra size over night.

At least the men in this time were all Chauvinists, so I wouldn't have to worry about going on the Quest.

After all, there wasn't a whole lot I could change, I had no fighting skills (or skills of any kind, for that matter) and my beauty and grace (or the noted lack thereof) wouldn't do a whole hell of a lot in battle.

Plus, I'd never been a big fan of camping. I was my mother's daughter for a reason, and our definition of "roughing it" was an extension-cord for the hair dryer, as my mom put it.

I had no camping skills to speak of.

At that, a quote from Napolean Dynamite (as a noted nerd, it was my favorite movie) came unbidden to my head: "You know, like nunchuck skills, bowhunting skills, computer hacking skills... Girls only want boyfriends who have great skills."

Gandalf looked at me oddly as I burst into laughter.

"Sorry," I apologized, blushing slightly even as I giggled.

Clearing my throat and stifling further snickers, I stood.

"May I go to my room now?"

"Yes. Will you be at the feast tonight," Elrond inquired.

I shrugged. "Probably. I'll see you there. Later," I said, giving another 'curtsey' (in the most liberal definition of the word) before I turned and left.

Yay! I didn't trip.

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I've made up my mind.

I love dwarves.

Forget the elves. Most of them are too prissy by half anyway.

Dwarves, however, are awesome.

Seriously, I can't believe John Rhys-Davies didn't have fan girls running around after him.

Having personally met Gimli, his father, and their advisors and friends, I've decided that Gimli is ten times better than Legolas.

They're ten times more sarcastic and funnier, and they know EXACTLY how to tell stories that will have you clutching your sides in laughter.

Not to mention the coolest insults and curses.

When was the last time YOU called someone a "son of an elf-licking balrog."

Seriously, you can't come UP with better stuff than this!

Gimli and the other dwarves are teaching me dwarvish.

Let's just say that I now know what Gimli told Haldir in Lorien, "Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul," means.

And I'm going to use it as often as I possibly can now. I'll FIND ways to work it into conversations.

Cause it's simply that awesome.

The dwarves are a riot.

Three hours after Frodo pulled me over to meet them at the feast, my sides ached and I was crying with laughter as we got up to follow Elrond and Arwen out of the room.

It was, as is usual with my luck, this moment when Boromir chose to come up to me and ask to escort me to the Hall of Fire.

Picture this: Boromir, tall, proud, and drop-dead gorgeous as ever, his blond hair gleaming and his warm green eyes smiling at me.

Me, short little me, a drop or two of sauce spilt onto my dress, breathless from laughter, eyes red from crying from laughing so hard, hair in a sloppy ponytail that had slipped off to one side when I'd fallen backwards out of my chair, no makeup on whatsoever, and cheeks flaming from embarrassment of knowing that he was seeing me look this bad.

Yeah, I can completely understand why he'd want to be seen with me.

I accepted, cheeks still red as tomatoes, and sent Pippin a glare that promised revenge for his teasing.

Grabbing the front of my dress in my fist so I wouldn't trip over it and make more of a fool of myself, I placed my hand in the crook of his arm.

"Are you gonna be at the Council tomorrow," I asked him, unable to stop myself from grinning stupidly up at him as we walked.

He looked surprised. "Yes. How do you know of the Council?"

"Because I'm going, too. Lord Elrond requested I go."

"But you're a woman!" He closed his eyes for a moment and grimaced, a look I knew well from how many times I'd had that exact expression. "That did not come out right. Women are intelligent, but this was to be an affair of war matters. Women should not have to face the horrors of battle."

I patted his arm, the corner of my mouth turning up into a wry grin. I had brothers; I knew exactly how many ways a man could put his foot into his mouth. "Don't worry, I know what you meant. But I will be at the Council tomorrow."

He looked at me curiously. "Why did you come to Rivendell, Lady Rose?"

I winced. "Ew. Don't call me Lady Rose. One, I don't have noble status, therefore the title doesn't belong. Two, Lady Rose sounds like a drag name, and since I really AM a woman, and not a man pretending to be one, just call me Rose."

He looked surprised. "You are not of noble blood? And yet Elrond requested your presence at the Council?"

"No I'm not and yes he did. Now, are you going to call me Rose or not?"

"I shall call you Rose, so long as you call me Boromir. And it has not escaped my notice that you haven't answered my question."

Damn, I thought I'd gotten away with it.

"Um... I came because I had to. I wasn't given a choice," I answered truthfully. No one had given me a choice about coming to Middle Earth.

"Why were you not you given a choice," he asked, pulling me to a stop and looking at me with concern in those beautiful green eyes.

Mental Rose handed me a rag to wipe the drool from my mouth.

"It doesn't matter," I said, tugging him to get him to go forward.

My tugging was about as effective as trying to move a mountain.

I leaned all my weight on his arm, and he only stood there, looking at me.

"You could at least PRETEND my pulling is working," I said, glaring at him.

He laughed and started walking again, changing the subject, but there was something in his eyes that told me he was purposely letting the matter drop.

I tripped over the skirt of my dress as we started walking again. Unfortunately, I wasn't holding onto his arm, and fell on my butt.

Again.

"You are vastly amusing, but are still about the most graceless woman I've ever had the fortune to meet," he said as he pulled me to my feet. "Didn't your mother teach you how to walk without tripping over your dress?"

I glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't 'trip', I 'fall with style'."

"Right, and my brother doesn't 'fall off his horse', he 'gainfully dismounts'."

"Oh, funny." I gave an obviously fake laugh as I glared at him again, using my ultra-'Rose is pissed' glare. "I hope you choke on something. And I'm telling him you said that," I added as an afterthought.

He was completely unmoved.

We sat in the Hall of Fire talking for two hours. We talked about everything, though I purposely steered the subject away from things concerning myself.

Eventually, however, I realized that I was about to fall asleep on his shoulder.

Laughing at me slightly, he nudged me to stand, then escorted me to my room, which I realized was a lot closer when someone else was navigating.

When I pointed this out to him, he laughed incredulously and shook his head, mentioning something about never letting me walk outside alone.

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The next morning dawned bright and disgustingly early.

The Council was to be held at 10 am, but that was comparatively early for me.

It was rare that I got up before noon. Shut up, I like to sleep late.

Previous to our trek to Rivendell from Bree, I hadn't REALLY believed people when they said there were pre-dawn hours.

Not like I haven't been wrong before.

The alarm clock on my cell phone (which still had a battery, thank god, or I'd have missed the Council) rang the Lord of the Rings theme (I'd had it downloaded) at 8 am.

I jerked awake, sitting up abruptly, startled.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the best move as I was already on the edge of the bed, and sitting up so abruptly upset my (laughably non-existent) balance.

I fell off the bed.

Yeah, y'all pretend like I'm the only one who's ever done that before.

Shut up, stop laughing.

Groaning and cursing incoherently, I stumbled to my feet and washed up as well as I could in the wash-basin, and got dressed (in a dress, damn it. If they threw away my jeans, I'm going to revolt).

Wishing desperately for a shower, coffee, and a map of some kind, I stumbled out my door and into the hall.

Well, two out of three is better than I was expecting.

Blessing my non-existent lack of direction, I stumbled into the bath house.

I'll admit the temptation was there to simply jump into the pool, screw the dress and converses.

I'm proud to say I managed to restrain myself for about ten seconds, in which time I did the fastest strip in recorded history, and bodily hurled myself into the hot water.

No graceful swan dives or gently slipping into the pool for me.

Nope, I did a gleeful belly flop (which I instantly regretted) and took IMMENSE satisfaction in the instantaneous shrieks of the elleths who'd gotten splashed.

Not to mention the first real bath I'd had in days.

Surfacing (and rubbing the sting out of my belly, my naval ring protesting), I grabbed the nearest bottle (after asking the nearby elleth if I could use it), sniffed it warily, hoped it was soap, poured it onto my head, and scrubbed with a zeal and pleasure that had the nearby elves laughing.

I scrubbed myself so hard and so many times (I was disgusting. I'd never gone that long without a shower before) that my skin was pink when I finally got out.

I really needed to shave because I was starting to feel like a sheep or something, but I had no idea where the razors were, was too shy to ask, and I highly doubted they were safety razors anyway.

With my noted lack of coordination, open blades and I aren't great friends.

After a good long soak, I reluctantly climbed out of the pool. One of the elleth attendants handed me a towel and pointed me in the direction of a changing stall.

Inside I found the Holy Grail.

Well, it was only a brush, but it sure felt like the Holy Grail when I managed to get all the tangles out of my wet hair.

Setting it back down reverently, I went out of the bathing hall.

Now, clean, dry, immensely happy, and only stumbling after tripping on my dress (which I resolved to burn the minute I got my jeans back) I spent half an hour wandering around trying to find my way back to the dining hall.

I found the next best thing: a guide.

Well, I more or less crashed into him.

I had been running my fingers through my hair to get it to dry, and had long since stopped paying attention to where I was going (what's the point? So I can see MORE rooms I don't recognize?) I ran face first into Boromir, who'd been reading and walking at the same time.

And was promptly knocked on my butt.

HE remained standing.

"I can NOT seem to stay vertical around you," I said, exasperated and giggling slightly. "You're like a bad luck charm or something."

"No one else seems to think so," Boromir shot back, grinning as he helped me to my feet.

"So, any chance you'd want to steer me to the Dining Hall," I asked hopefully.

What I really wanted to ask was if he knew where the nearest Starbucks was, but I didn't think he'd find it as funny as I did.

He looked at me, one eyebrow lifted.

Why does everyone keep giving me that look?

"The Council is to start in ten minutes. That was the warning bell you heard," he said, both amused and confused (apparently common feelings in people who meet me).

"I knew that," I said defensively, though obviously lying. But maybe he didn't know me well enough to tell. "I was just testing you, is all."

He shot me a look as he grabbed my shoulders and turned me around, steering me in front of him.

"You're a terrible liar. You got lost didn't you?"

"NO," I said defensively, looking back at him as he pushed. "I was just...looking for the library...and stuff..."

"You were looking for the library in the wrong part of the city, and ten minutes before the Council," he said, amused and clearly knowing I was lying.

I looked down at my feet. "Um...yeah. That's how the cool people do it. Didn't you know that?"

"I have no idea what you mean by 'cool', but admit it: you were lost, and wouldn't have made it to the Council without me."

"I wasn't LOST, I just didn't know where I WAS. There's a difference."

He shot me a look. "Is that like the difference between 'tripping' and 'falling with style'?"

I, ever the mature one, stuck my tongue out at him. "Hmm...still haven't choked on anything yet, have you?"

"No, because MY father taught me how to eat without spilling or choking on anything," he retorted with a grin.

I glared at him some more, then harrumphed.

"Fine, I believe this round goes to you," I said, keeping my nose in the air as I took my seat beside his.

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I've taken the SAT's.

I've taken the ACT's.

I've even sat through an entire, unabridged performance of War and Peace.

But never, in my ENTIRE life, have I ever been so bored as I was in that Council.

After Elrond did his whole dramatic 'we're all going to die slowly and painfully unless one of you grows the balls to take the ring to Mordor' comment, it got kind of boring.

After all, I knew what each person was going to say.

I only barely managed to refrain from quoting along with them.

Good God, Elrond owes me for making me sit through this.

I spent most of the time with the Council completely tuned out, watching RENT in my head.

Shut up, I don't care what you say; I am NOT the only one who's memorized the movie.

"...from the future and possesses knowledge of these events. Rose, please stand," Elrond said, gesturing to me.

The entire council looked at me.

I was still watching RENT, slouched over in my chair.

Oh, how I love the Tango Maureen.

"Rose," Elrond said again, trying to get my attention.

Boromir sighed slightly and elbowed me to get my attention.

I looked up and realized the entire council was standing, obviously having just been fighting, and were looking at me expectantly.

And I had no idea what they'd asked.

Why is it ALWAYS me?

"Sorry, what," I asked, blushing furiously.

"Some help she will be," one of the elves burst out, "she cannot even stay focused on the Council."

Indignant, I looked the elf dead in the eye.

"Tell me, _friend_, what is the point of me paying attention if I know everything that will be said? Would YOU sit through the entire Council twice if you didn't have to?"

The elf shifted in his seat.

"I didn't think so. Now, what was the question, Lord Elrond."

The dwarves looked like they wanted to kiss me for pwning an elf.

I desperately hoped they wouldn't.

"What will be done with the One Ring?"

I looked at him, surprised. I didn't see the harm in answering him, though. "A fellowship will be formed to take the Ring into the fires of Mount Doom and destroy it."

"Who will these members be," he asked, obviously trying to prove my worth to the Council.

I had no idea why, though.

"These members must choose to go by their own free will, or the fellowship will not work," I said, my head cocked to the side (one day, I WILL break that habit) looking at Elrond in confusion.

Surely he knew enough about people to know that.

"Does that prove her wisdom," Elrond asked the Council. "She refused to change history."

They nodded.

Wait, what?

"She shall come with the Fellowship to warn of dangers," one of the dwarves shouted.

WHAT?!

"No, that's alright. I'm just a woman, remember?"

No one was paying attention to me.

"Maybe she should bear the Ring," someone else suggested.

"HELL no," I snapped.

"No, the Ring has the power to corrupt, and a corrupt Seer would weild more power than a wizard might," Elrond said.

Oh, thank GOD.

"She shall, however, accompany the fellowship. All in agreement, say 'aye'."

Mental Rose had a mental breakdown, and started to laugh out of sheer hysterics.

"AYE," they all shouted.

"NOOOO," I wailed.

"It is done, Rose shall join the Ringbearer Frodo on his quest to Mount Doom."

Resisting the urge to curse loudly and in every language I could think of, I walked over to Frodo's side.

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear," Gandalf said, placing his hand on Frodo's shoulder.

"If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will," said Aragorn, kneeling. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow," said Legolas as he came to stand beside us.

"And my axe!" Gimli scowled at Legolas as he came over.

Legolas just sort of looked constipated.

Yay! Go Dwarves!

"You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done," Boromir said, looking down at Frodo as he walked over.

I looked over to the brush, wondering if this was going to follow the book or movies.

"Mr. Frodo is not goin' anywhere without me!" Sam leapt from behind the foliage and ran over.

Right, movie then.

"No indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not," Elrond said, amused.

"Wait! We are coming too!"

I couldn't help it.

I cracked up at the look on Elrond's face.

"You'd have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!"

"Anyway you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission, quest... thing," Pippin said with authority.

"Well that rules you out, Pip," Merry added dryly.

"Ten companions... So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!"

I closed my eyes and groaned.

I'm not here for a week and I'm already changing canon.

Maybe I should just give up and change my name to Mary-Sue.

It would save time at the very least.

"Great! Where are we going?"

Well at least there are some things I can't change.

Pippin's overwhelming intelligence for one.


	8. of hysterics, doom, and boredom

Disclaimer: i don't own lord of the rings...poo.

Author's note: Yay for all my reviewers. here's a cookie.

Chapter 8:

"I hate men," I muttered, my head in my hands as I stared down at my lap.

It was only a few hours after the Council from Hell, as I'd renamed it.

I'd managed to get lost...again… but had also managed to…um…_lose_ my way into yet another of Rivendell's secluded gardens.

So here I was, sitting cross legged on the ground, not giving a fig for grass stains (maybe if I ruined enough dresses, Elrond wouldn't make me wear them anymore), trying to figure out what in the world I'd done wrong.

Not only was I so disgustingly close to becoming a Mary-Sue that I was starting to get nauseous every time I thought about it, but I was also going on a quest where I'd be NO help, and where I would quite possibly die…in the process of being NO help.

I still wasn't quite sure why they'd wanted me to come.

I suppose I'd been hoping that their alleged chauvinistic tendencies would help me out, and I'd be free of any responsibilities but to get home.

Well, that came back to bite me in the ass, didn't it?

"I hate men," I said vehemently again for a good measure.

"I'm not overly fond of them myself," said an unfamiliar voice behind me, at which point my heart actually stopped beating for a few seconds.

I think I need to clean out my pants.

Oh, wait, I'm still wearing the god damned dress.

Right, I forgot.

Silly me.

After my heart started beating again, I turned my head around to see behind me.

The elleth flopped down beside me on the ground.

I noted with glee that she was wearing leggings instead of a skirt.

"Men suck," I said congenially.

She nodded. "I am not familiar with the term, but I understand your meaning." She looked at me, clearly as peeved and frustrated as I was. "And I agree whole-heartedly."

"What did they do to you," I asked curiously.

"I'm the only female member of the Imladris Guard, and a new one at that. My team refuses to let me do my part simply because I'm a woman." She sighed. "They mean well, but I was raised to do my part." She stopped and put her chin on her hand. "The others do not believe that I am capable of aiding the Guard because I am a woman, and that I will do harm to Imladris' defenses." She looked at me. "The entire male gender should be shot with their own arrows."

I nodded in agreement, though inside I was slightly surprised.

Wow, turns out suffragettes exist even in these days.

"What was their crime against you," she asked.

"That they believe I can do more than I can," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I can't say more than that, but suffice it to say that at this moment, I have the strong urge to castrate every last male. Slowly. And with a grape-fruit knife."

Her eyes widened. "Ooh, I like your idea better."

"I think yours is more feasible, though."

"True, but not as satisfying."

Simultaneously, we sighed dreamily as we imagined exacting revenge on the entire male gender.

Suddenly, she straightened.

"Well, I must begin my patrol," she said as she gracefully rose to her feet. "I must bid you good night."

"G'night," I said with a nod, too exhausted by the Council to do more than that. "Maybe we will meet again."

"Mayhap," she said with a nod in my direction before melting into the shadows.

I stared after her for a few moments.

I leaned back and looked at the blackened night sky, so different than the one from home.

Knowing it was simply mental and physical exhaustion that was making me emotional, I didn't bother to stop the thoughts of home from flooding my mind.

As I stared at the sky, unconsciously looking for something familiar, I realized that millions of people would literally kill to get the chance I was getting.

But, somehow, that thought didn't comfort me as I longed for my mother's gentle arms and sage wisdom, and wondered if I'd ever get to see my family again.

I wasn't an angst or emotional person by nature. I'd had a wonderful life, filled with laughter and love. My parents had one of the few marriages that lasted. I was happy in my world. I was loved in my world.

I knew what to do and say in my world.

Hell, in my world I didn't have to wear dresses.

Suddenly, without warning, all the stress, fear, loneliness, and emotions I'd kept bottled for the last few days came to the fore and I burst into tears.

Glancing down at myself, I started laughing at the ridiculousness of it all: I was dressed in clothes I couldn't walk in, in a world that I'd only dreamt about, had become a "prophet" of sorts, had learnt a new language, had only just realized that I might never see my family again, for all my family knew I was dead from a car accident, and all I could think about was that I was becoming a Mary-Sue.

Laughing and crying hysterically, I let my mental breakdown take over.

"Rose?"

It's at moments like this, when you look horrible and feel worse, when there is only one person it could be.

It was always the thing or person you wanted to see least at that moment.

I started laughing harder, too far gone at this point to even care that I looked like crap and probably like I needed serious therapy.

Sometimes I really hate my life.

Gimme a break: YOU go to Middle Earth, THEN you can criticize me and call me angsty. I'm simply telling what happened.

"Hi, Boromir," I said without looking up. "I'm just having a mental breakdown," I managed to get out between hysterical giggles. I lifted my head slightly and looked at him. "Come and sit down."

He stayed where he was. "Is something wrong?"

"There ain't a whole hell of a lot goin' RIGHT," I said with an indelicate snort, my hysterics making my accent come out all the stronger. "So you'll have to excuse me if I'm not great company at the moment."

Slowly, he came and sat down next to me. "Why did you lie to me? Why did you say you were from Gondor if you were not?"

I tried to ignore the hurt look in his eyes.

I sighed as my laughter died down. "Well, I couldn't very well go up to you, a perfect stranger, shake your hand, and tell you that I was from another time and knew exactly what was going to happen in a quest that you hadn't even heard of yet." I glanced at him. "Trust me when I say it's a real conversation killer."

"But why did you say you were from Gondor?"

I shrugged. "I was thinking about Gondor when I was talking to you, and it just came out. Besides," I said, shrugging again, "it's my favorite country."

He nodded, but remained silent.

I turned my head to look at him, touching his arm to get his attention. I waited until he looked at me before I spoke.

"Boromir, believe me when I say that I did not want to lie to you or hurt you. That was never my intent. I'm only human, though, and I was in a tight place, and I did the only thing I could think of."

He nodded slowly, then looked back up at the stars. "I am not angry," he said after a moment, "just…I don't know…confused." He turned his head to look at me. "I do not believe you should go on the quest, Rose."

I snorted again in a distinctly unladylike manner that would have had my mother on my back if she'd heard.

"I don't think I should either, but it's not up to me anymore."

"What do you mean it is not up to you?"

I looked at him. "They believe that I will prevent any of them from being harmed. They believe it is my DUTY to go. They will not let me stay here, not now."

"But if you tell them," he began, but I cut him off.

"Look at it this way," I said, interrupting him, "Knowing everything that is happening in Gondor right now, all the danger that your brother is in. Knowing all of that, if you met someone who knew the future and could save your brother's life, would you still let them go, simply because they ASKED you to?"

He hesitated, then looked down.

"Do you see now?"

He looked back at me, meeting my eyes squarely. "These are all honorable men," he said vehemently, "if you truly do not wish to go, they will not make you."

I sighed, then sat up and got to my feet. I turned to look back at him, lying there on the grass under the stars.

I shrugged. "Maybe I should go. Maybe I can do some good. I've never been one to let a little physical discomfort prevent me from doing something that I need to do." I shrugged. "Anyway, it's getting late and I want to see if I can sneak some leggings into my closet before Elrond finds out."

He looked amused and slightly bewildered. "You are without a doubt the oddest woman I've ever had the fortune to meet."

I blinked.

"I'm not completely sure that was a compliment, but I'll give you credit for it none the less," I said, trying to shake the grass out of my skirt and hair.

I shrieked and danced away in horror when I discovered a spider on my sleeve, flinging my arm around in horror to get it off.

Boromir looked at me in amusement from the ground. "Dignified as ever, I see."

I waited until the arachnid of DOOM had been flung off into the stratosphere before I retorted.

"Spiders are evil and now you're on my list," I informed him calmly.

"What happens on the list," he asked, completely blasé.

"Unpleasant things," I said, completely nonchalant. "Now, I'm going to go find some pants or some leggings or something, ANYTHING, other than a skirt." I cocked my head to the side as something occurred to me. "You're a man."

He blinked, completely thrown by the change of conversation. "Uh..yes. Yes I am."

"You wear pants," I added, tapping my chin.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I do. And you wear a skirt."

"But I WANT to wear pants. And you DO wear pants. Which leads me to think that you know where I can GET pants to WEAR."

He sighed.

"You want me to help you find trousers to wear?"

I shrugged. "What I really want is to have my jeans back, but I bet Elrond burned them."

"Jeans," Boromir asked as I helped him to stand.

"More durable than pants or leggings, and ten times more comfortable." I looked at him out of the corner of my eye as he led us. "Blue. Pretty!" I added enthusiastically.

Like the typical male, he rolled his eyes.

"Come, I'm sure that we can get something for you to wear," he said as he led me out of the garden. "Normally I would never do this. After all, it IS inappropriate for women to wear leggings, but I have come to the realization that dresses are a health hazard when it comes to you wearing them."

I grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Yay! Not only was I FINALLY getting regular (or semi-regular) clothes, but I also had an accomplice.

Mental Rose cackled manically and rubbed her hands together.

I'd successfully corrupted the Son of Gondor.

I felt the sudden need to take a bow and thank the Acadamy, my parents, and everyone who'd helped me get this far.

He grabbed my arm and yanked me to the side as I nearly ran into a tree.

"Thanks," I said absently.

"Mmm," he grunted in acknowledgement before tugging me down into the streets of the town.

"Where are we going," I asked. "I thought the tailor was the other way, though, admittedly, my sense of direction is laughably non-existent."

"Indeed it is. And indeed the tailor IS the other way, but we're not going to the tailor, are we," he asked rhetorically.

"Apparently not," I said as he pulled me down yet another side street.

"We're going to the soldier's barracks. They'll have spare supplies for the soldiers there."

"And we're going to steal them," I said, amused. "Gondor's Golden Boy is going to steal from the soldier's barracks."

He sent me a look. "I don't want to see a friend break her neck because she's incapable of walking in a dress."

"Thanks…I think."

"You're welcome," he said absently as he stopped in front of a taller building with a window high off the ground, probably for ventilation and sunlight. "I'm going to boost you up into the window."

I blinked. "Why? There's a tree right there." I pointed.

"Oh." He walked over to the tree, then glanced back at me. "Ladies first."

"Oh, no," I said as I joined him under the tree. "I'm in a dress. You don't get to be looking up at me while I'm in a dress. YOU go first."

Realization dawned and his face flushed bright red.

I grinned and gestured for him to go first.

Still bright red, he grabbed the first branch and began to climb.

While he was up in the tree, I grabbed the hem of my dress and tucked the two sides into the belt at my hips. Kicking off my slippers (which I hated anyway but was forced to wear since my converses had mysteriously disappeared) I grabbed the nearest branch and swung my legs up to grip it.

"So, why are we stealing them from soldiers again," I asked as I climbed.

"Because soldiers," Boromir said as he pulled himself up, "are the only ones who won't notice a missing pair. Besides," he hoisted himself up again, then continued, "these aren't soldiers. They're guardsmen."

"Same thing," I said dismissively. Boromir stopped and glared at me. "I mean, since all the armed forces are so strong and amazing," I amended hastily. Placated, he resumed his climb.

"What took you so long," Boromir asked cockily as he sat above me on a branch beside the window.

"Just 'cause you have one doesn't mean you have to be one," I retorted distractedly as I grabbed the window ledge and hoisted myself onto the ledge.

Luckily, glass was either difficult to make or deemed unnecessary, because the window was just a square hole in the building.

Sitting on the ledge, my legs hanging outside, I leaned over and looked down on the inside.

"The room's empty," I told Boromir. "I think it's some sort of locker room. I'm going down."

"Wait," Boromir said, but I ignored him as I swung my legs over the ledge and jumped down.

I landed on my feet and grimaced as shocks went up my ankles and the hem came untucked from my belt, falling around my feet.

"Hey, Soldier-boy, get down here," I called up to Boromir.

He landed beside me, then straightened.

"These are the lockers. Come, the storage rooms should be close." He grabbed my wrist and tugged me out of the room, pausing in the hall to see if anyone was coming.

"I feel like we should have theme music," I commented.

I started to hum the Mission Impossible theme.

And stopped abruptly as the door across from me opened.

The male elf froze and blinked.

So did I.

"Ooh, bad," I breathed.

Boromir didn't notice anything.

"Now, I believe the storage room is—"

I slapped my hand over his mouth, grinning sheepishly at the elf, who had one amused eyebrow raised.

"Umm…hi," I said.

The eyebrow raised higher, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Yeah, um…" I didn't know what to say. Finally, I sighed. "Look, I'll give you a cookie if you don't tell anyone that we're breaking and entering."

The other eyebrow joined the first.

"I know what this looks like," I told the eyebrows, "but I'm just looking for some bloody pants. That's all. Me and dresses don't work well together. In fact, bad things happen when I wear dresses."

"I will not say anything about your presence, though allow me to compliment the both of you on your performance at the Council this morning."

And here I thought that I was the ADD one.

"Excuse me?"

"Your performance," elf-boy said again. "You joined the Fellowship of the Ring. It was most admirable."

"So you aren't going to turn us in," I said warily, suspecting a trap.

"Focus, Rose," Boromir said, elbowing me.

"Um...yeah, thanks. You, too," I said, thoroughly confused at this point. "We have to go now…so…um…live long and prosper," I said, giving the Spock sign, before yanking Boromir's sleeve and pulling him away.

"Live long and prosper," I repeated to myself in disgust as we hastily walked away. "My self-respect just took a swan dive. Seriously," I told an apathetic Boromir, "I can never look myself in face again."

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "You could look yourself in the face before?"

"Yes…well, no...but that's not the point," I said, flustered. "The point is that I just raised my geek status to apocalyptic proportions."

"I don't know what half the words in that sentence mean, but console yourself with the fact that it is highly unlikely you will ever see that particular elf again."

I smacked his arm.

He rubbed his arm where I'd hit him. "What was that for," he asked indignantly.

"Why would you say that? Now you've jinxed us," I snapped.

He pushed open the door to his left and held it open for me. "What does that even mean," he said slightly hysterically.

Poor man didn't even know why he was in trouble.

Then again, isn't that the case with most men?

"Jinxed means you've curses something. You said we'd never see him again, so now we'll see him every day or something. It's when you tempt the fates," I explained.

He stopped and gave me an incredulous look. "You are so odd," he said at last.

"Thank you for that assessment, Captain Obvious," I retorted maturely, rifling through the boxes of supplies.

An hour later, we were still rifling.

"I got nothing'," I said at last, tossing aside yet another box of leather flasks.

"Unfortunately, neither have I," Boromir said, sitting down. "I do not understand it. I was so sure."

"I know why we can't find them," I said grimly. "It's Elrond. He can get inside your head, man. And then he reads your mind. That's how he found out I was on the hunt for pants. So he burned all the pants in Imladris, just so I couldn't have any."

My eyes must have gone slightly wild around the edges because Boromir edged away slightly.

"I'm going to die and be buried in a skirt," I yelled hysterically.

Slowly (obviously afraid my paranoia was contagious), Boromir leaned over and patted my shoulder awkwardly.

I grabbed his shirt and brought our faces close.

If you've never seen Boromir actually scared, you should.

It's quite funny.

"Save yourself, man," I hissed. "The bastard's burned all the pants in Rivendell, and when you go to sleep tonight, he'll come in and steal yours, and then you'll have to wear a skirt because he burned them. Don't trust him, he did it to me. He pretended to be nice and heal me, but he was really plotting to drive me insane all along," I finished hysterically.

"Oh, plots weren't necessary," Boromir said, prying my hands off his tunic. "I think what you need is some fresh air," he said soothingly as he pulled me to my feet.

"First it's the pants in Rivendell, then the WORLD," I said prophetically, completely ignoring Boromir at this point.

As he led me out of the city and up to the guest rooms (me ranting about Elrond's plot to take over the world via pants-stealing), we passed the hobbits.

"What's wrong with her," Merry asked.

I grabbed his shirt and hauled him close.

"Lack of hope," I whimpered.

Scared, he looked at Boromir for protection.

Boromir pried my hands off the poor, unenlightened fellow and kept them at my sides. "She's just a little tired is all," he said to the hobbits.

I eyed the hobbits' pants, wondering if I could fit into them.

"I'm just going to walk her to her room."

"Doom," I said calmly, "is in your futures."

Frodo's eyes widened.

Something caught my eye.

"Oh, shiny," I said, completely forgetting my prophecies of doom and despair as I broke Boromir's grasp and trotted over to the armory. "Pretty," I breathed, running my hand over the pair of long daggers (think like Legolas' daggers).

Boromir and the hobbits looked at each other.

"She's not sane is she," Pippin murmured to the others.

"At the very least, she's vastly entertaining," Merry pointed out with a shrug as they watched me admiring the blades.

"I'm not sure she should get within ten feet of a sharp object," Sam said warily.

I resisted the urge to cackle maniacally just to scare them.

"Indeed I agree, Master Samwise," said a familiar voice behind us. I turned to see Aragorn and Boromir clasp arms in that weird I'm-macho-so-I-can't-show-affection thing that men did.

"Aragorn," I whined. "Elrond burned all the pants in Rivendell, and now Sam says I can't have sharp objects around me."

He blinked, glanced down at his leggings, then back up at me. "I'm not entirely sure how the two are connected, nor how you came to that conclusion, but I'll take your word for it."

"Thank you," I said, placated. "Now, I need to learn how to fight."

Boromir and Aragorn exchanged a glance.

"You found her first," Boromir said with a shrug. Aragorn glared at him, then turned his gaze to me.

"Why do you need to learn how to fight," he asked warily.

I blinked at him.

Should have been kind of obvious, but okay.

"Because we're going to destroy the Ring of Doom, and will probably be facing many unpleasant nasties along the way," I said, one eyebrow raised.

"You have no need to learn," Aragorn said. "You will have many able-bodied men to defend you."

"No," I reminded him, "Frodo will have many able-bodied men to defend him. That's kind of the whole point of the mission."

Aragorn and Boromir exchanged another look.

"Women do not wield weapons," Boromir said slowly.

"Well, I for one agree with her," Frodo said, stepping to my side. "After all, it would be ungentlemanly to make the poor girl come with us into the wild, then deny her the protection of her own sword."

I looked approvingly down at Frodo. "Well put. You're now my favorite," I informed him before returning my gaze to the two men.

"Very well," Aragorn sighed. "There is sense in it, though I do not like it. We shall begin tomorrow. What would you like to learn?"

I cocked my head to the side as I considered. "Well, my sense of aim is laughably non-existent, so bows are right out. Whips are fun," I suggested enthusiastically, but stopped when I saw the look on Aragorn's face, "but whips are no go. Um…Axes probably aren't a good idea considering I have no upper arm strength," I said dryly. "So I've got swords or...swords."

"The only swords that would be large enough and strong enough to withstand true battle are too heavy for her," Boromir pointed out to Aragorn.

My face fell.

"Unless we gave her two smaller ones, one for each hand," Aragorn suggested.

I lit up with glee.

Yay! Two shinies!

"Do you really want her walking around with TWO sharp objects," Merry pointed out.

I glared at him, though had to admit he had a good point.

"A valid point, Master Meriadoc, but there is no other option. She must be able to defend herself," Boromir said.

Aragorn studied me warily.

I tried to look both innocent and capable.

"Alright, but she will train with one of the Fellowship each day," Aragorn said. He sent Boromir a resigned look. "Which means we need to find her twin short swords."

"And heavy armor for the rest of us," Boromir retorted.

I resisted the urge to throw a pebble at him.

"No, we'll be able to hear her coming by the sounds of things breaking and people's screams as she approaches," Aragorn said, grinning slightly.

Screw maturity.

I threw a pebble at him.


	9. The Short Stick

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the little worn down shack I live in.

Author's note: Well, school started again, so my updates are going to have more time between them, but I AM going to try to crank out at least one chapter a week.

And for the record, I would like to state that I have the best Beta in the entire WORLD!

Chapter 9: The short stick

Here's the thing about training: it requires skill, balance, and, at the very least, a tenuous grasp of hand-eye coordination. Unfortunately, I have none of these.

And what makes everything TEN TIMES BETTER? That, when you're training, Aragorn, just to piss you off, comes in your room and dumps water on you to wake you up. At 5 a.m.

"Wake up, Rose," he said. He was disgustingly cheerful for this ungodly hour of the morning.

I told him so. He warningly held up a second bucket of water. I held up my hands. "You know what, you're right. Y'all are perfectly capable of protecting me. So there is no reason for me to learn to fight. So I'm going back to bed."

"Your bed is wet," he pointed out.

"And the maid will probably murder me slowly later, but if you're okay with it, so am I," I assured him as I flopped back down and closed my eyes, wincing as cold water seeped into my nightshirt. "I'm a teenager; I can sleep anywhere and through anything."

Aragorn used the second bucket.

I didn't even open my eyes this time as the cold water hit me. "Haha, sucker," I said triumphantly as I yanked the covers up over me, "now you're out of water." I raised one hand and flapped it at him. "Now, shoo. I need sleep."

I went back to sleep, completely ignoring him. (I have the ability to be asleep within a few seconds. Weird, but I'm not complaining.)

And woke to the sensation of being picked up. I cracked an eye open. "What the duce to you think you are doing?" I asked his chest in my best Stewie (Family Guy) voice.

His chest didn't respond.

My other eye popped open. I don't trust him. I turned my head to look and my eyes widened. It was the bathing pool from yesterday. "You wouldn't," I told him, my voice unsure.

He let go of me.

I shrieked as I hit the bath water with a splash. The COLD bath water.

I came up spluttering. "HOLY MOTHER !#$!#!$!#$!#$!#!$ #!"

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure what you just described isn't physically possible."

"It will be in a minute," I snarled as I planted my hands on the edge of the pool and hoisted myself out of the water. "I'd start running now if I were you," I growled, stalking towards him.

His eyes widened as he realized that not only was I dead serious, but that he had just pissed off a woman. And remembered that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

I watched with grim satisfaction as a mixture of horror, fear, and slight panic flashed across his face.

"Shall I get you a drying cloth?" he hastily suggested, backing away.

"I think that would be best," I hissed, trying to drill holes into him with my eyes.

Hurriedly, he yanked a towel out of the nearby cupboard, hurled it at me, and fled before I could do any permanent damage to him.

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Aragorn is going down. It will be (for him) slow, painful, and (for me) oh-so-satisfying.

I stalked out of the bathing house clad only in a robe wrapped around me.

My face on fire, I ignored the incredulous looks passing elves shot me as I stalked passed.

"You know, you look like an indignant cat when you walk like that," said a voice beside me.

I glanced up to see Legolas walking beside me. I glared at him. "How much do you like Aragorn?" I asked him.

He looked at me, confused. "He is one of my closest friends. Why?" he asked quizzically.

"Because he's not going to be alive much longer," I informed him grimly.

He was silent for a moment. "What did he do this time?" he said, sounding resigned.

I glanced up at him. "He woke me up with water."

"I don't understand," he said.

I blinked at him, then glanced down at myself and back up at him. "I wasn't wet when I went to bed, Legolas," I said slowly, as if to a particularly dense child.

He blinked at me. "Why did he get you up?"

"Sword practice," I grunted.

His eyes widened in horror. "When did he wake you up?" he asked slowly.

"About half an hour ago, I think," I said warily.

His eyes widened even further.

I don't like that look on people. That look never bodes well for me. "What?" I asked warily.

"Estel does not tolerate tardiness when it comes to sword practice," he said frantically. "You should have been on the training field half an hour ago!"

I froze, probably looking like a deer in spotlights.

"Why are you still standing here? GO!" Legolas said, waving me forward with a frantic wave of his hand.

My jaw dropped and I hesitated for a split second before sprinting down the hall to my room.

Slamming my door closed, I yanked off the robe and hurled it to the ground on my way to the trunk in front of my bed. Shoving the lid up, I grabbed the dress I'd worn on the way to Rivendell (newly cleaned and mended) and yanked it on as fast as I could. I grabbed my converses on my way out the door, hopping down the hall as I put them on.

It was only as I was sprinting down the hall that it hit me. "Oh my GOD!" I swore, bringing my hands to my head in frustration. "I don't know where it is. I don't know where the freaking training field is!"

Frodo, angel that he is, suddenly popped out of nowhere. "You're looking for the training fields?" he asked. I nodded frantically. "Down the hall, down the stairs, third ring on the left," he said, grinning.

"You are now my favorite person ever," I yelled as I sprinted down the hall.

I skidded to a halt in the ring, where Aragorn was sitting perched on the railing. "You're late," he said.

"You threw me into the bathing pool after dumping two buckets of cold water on me," I reminded him. "I think we're about even."

He nodded in acknowledgment of my win. "Point taken. Come here," he said, gesturing me over. "I have something for you."

I walked over, curious. He held out two sheathed swords, the hilts towards me. "These are your swords. Grasp the hilts and pull them out," he instructed.

Doing as he bid, I pulled them out and gasped. "They're beautiful, Aragorn."

The two blades were short and gracefully curved like sabers. But, best of all, they were light. Which meant I could actually hold them. I grinned and waved them around, admiring them.

"Now, sheathe them again," Aragorn directed. I did as he bid. He put them behind him on the fence and pulled two sticks and held them out. "These are the 'swords' you will be using for the next three months."

My jaw dropped.

He hoped off the fence and grabbed one of the swords. "But first, you're learning with just one. Then Legolas will take over and teach you how to use two swords at once. But you must learn the basics of swordplay first." He paused. "And you're learning with me." He grinned evilly.

It was in that moment that I had an epiphany. Fight or flight doesn't work when the person you are trying to fight carries a sword and can run faster than you.

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"Ow," I informed Legolas cheerfully as I sat down beside him in the dining hall. "And, in case you weren't aware, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow."

His lip twitched. "Muscles hurt?" he asked in a disgustingly cheerful voice.

"Nope," I replied, just as cheerfully. "I'm trying a new method of moving where I don't use muscles."

"Ah, sore AND sarcastic," he said as he poured me a cup of coffee. (Thank all that is good and holy, they had it here. I nearly had a religious moment when I found out.) "You must have learned a great deal with Estel, then."

I glared at the cup, then at him. "Now why did you do that? You know I love coffee, and you bloody well know I can't move my arm to pick it up." I narrowed my eyes further. "You did that on purpose, just to taunt me with it, didn't you?"

He merely grinned.

I would have thrown a roll at him, but that would have required me to move. I glared harder instead.

"What are you doing today?" he asked, completely unaffected by my glare o' death.

"Well, after breakfast I'm going to think of a method to remain absolutely still, and then, after that, I'm going to spend the rest of the day utilizing said method."

"No you're not," he informed me, again disgustingly cheerful. "Elrond has requested your presence at the High Table. And he's twenty minutes early, which means you're already late," he added with a wide grin at my horrified face.

"You actually LIKE giving me heart attacks, don't you?" I asked incredulously as I leapt to my feet (and every muscle in my body asked me what the hell I thought I was doing).

His grin widened.

I hate pretty little princelings. "Good things don't happen when I talk to you," I snapped, as I yanked my dress straight and headed for the dais. Lifting the skirt off the ground slightly, I found I could walk normally so long as I could keep an eye on my feet. Unfortunately, this meant I wasn't looking where I was going.

Now, at this point, I would like to say that I am well aware that all of you, the readers, have seen this coming for a while, probably since I first put on a skirt, and are probably rubbing your hands together with glee. Well, I would like to say that it's not so f'ing hilarious when it's YOU it's happening to.

On with the story.

I bumped into one of the elf waiters and his tray tipped. Into a group of elves. And he hadn't been carrying water or anything fun and CLEAN like that. Oh, no. That would have saved too much of my pride. Red f'ing grapefruit juice, among other equally colorful drinks.

It would have been a lot funnier if those particular elves hadn't been, among other equally influential people, Glorfindel, Erestor, Arwen and her brothers (Elladan and Elrohir. I recognized them from the Council. Apparently, they hadn't left for Lothlorien yet) and Galdor, the messenger sent by Cirdan of the Grey Havens.

As they shrieked (rather girlishly, I might add. Especially considering Arwen was the only female there), I closed my eyes and indulged in a good long groan.

It's me. It's ALWAYS me.

Skirts suck; don't wear them (a helpful word of advice from your local klutz).

I cursed in English for a few moments, then turned to the issue at hand. "I'm so sorry, my lords and lady," I said, yanking the pitcher upright and snatching napkins from nearby tables.

"It's quite alright," Arwen reassured me with a smile as she dabbed at her dress in vain. "This is neither the first nor the last time something has spilt on this dress."

"Speak for yourself," Galdor snapped. "This is the first time I've ever worn this tunic. Now look at it."

I resisted the urge to ask him if he'd seen it before it got ruined. It wasn't a great loss.

"Believe me, Galdor, the shirt wasn't a big loss," Elladan (or Elrohir? No idea) said dryly as he mopped up the mess near him.

I grinned at Elladan (or Elrohir. Whichever).

He winked back at me.

I froze as I heard someone behind me start clapping.

I cocked my head to the side. "Satan," I guessed with feigned innocence, tapping my chin with my finger before turning around to face Boromir. "Sorry, had you confused with someone else."

"Sorry, that's my alter-ego," he said, his eyebrow quirked.

I waggled my finger at him. "None of the eyebrow quirking. I am the QUEEN of eyebrow quirking. And if you're not nice, I'll shave off your eyebrow while you're asleep."

The corner of his lip twitched up. "I'm sure I'd be trembling in my boots if only I were wearing any."

I glanced down. "Umm…you are," I said, pointing to his riding boots.

His head cocked to the side and he seemed deep in thought for a moment. "Nope, not trembling then. Sorry."

I blinked, then patted him on the shoulder. "Worst joke ever, but I'll give you credit for effort, peaches," I said, humoring him.

He frowned and turned to Legolas, who'd followed him. "'Peaches'? I thought I was 'Golden Boy'?"

"You've been demoted for the suckiness of the joke," I said, patting his shoulder sympathetically. "Every lover of sarcasm has off days. Don't worry, you'll be funnier soon."

"Still wet and sticky," Galdor reminded us testily.

I refrained from making a sex joke out of the sheer crassness of it, but the urge to mock was strong. Instead, I handed him another napkin. "If you'll excuse me," I told Boromir and Legolas, "I have to continue begging for forgiveness and otherwise butchering any self-confidence I might have had formerly. Talk to you later," I said, fluttering my hand dismissively at them.

Galdor gasped.

I refrained from asking him if this time his nail had broken or he'd discovered a split end. My self-restraint should be legendary by this point. "Have something to add, Lord Galdor," I said, trying to smile through gritted teeth.

"You were insolent to the Prince of Mirkwood," he hissed. "Forgive her, my Lord Prince. She is mortal and her faults are therefore numerous. Do to her as you wish, but please do not hold all present accountable for her faults," he said pleadingly to Legolas. 

On the one hand, I had to give it to him: that takes serious skill to insult someone twice in one breath and still manage to look both innocent and slightly constipated. On the other hand, I would have dug a fork into his prissy little hand had Legolas not seen my hand tighten and snatched the fork away, placing it far out of my reach.

Lacking any sharp objects to hurl at Galdor, and having too much pride (though it tended to diminish every time Galdor opened his mouth) to lunge for his throat, I resolved to get revenge in the future.

"She is a friend, Lord Galdor," Legolas said, his diplomatic upbringing obviously coming to the fore, "I neither take offense, nor hold any present accountable. You have no cause to worry," he said reassuringly.

"But she has gravely insulted you, your Highness. Surely she must be punished for her crime," Galdor insisted.

Screw diplomacy. "WHAT is your problem," I snapped at him. "Have I made a Yo' Momma joke that you took particular offense to or something? I deserve neither your hostility nor your disdain, and I greatly resent the fact that you hold me in such contempt for a crime that I was not aware I committed. Either tell me what I did to offend you and we'll discuss it like mature adults, or keep your forked tongue behind your teeth before I slap you into next week, then kick your sorry ass on Thursday!"

Outraged, he leapt to his feet. "Lord Elrond will hear about this," he hissed.

"That's right. Go tell your gracious host that the other guests aren't groveling satisfactorily to you. I'm sure he'll love hearing how you made sweeping generalizations on mortals, which his beloved foster son is counted among," I snapped back.

He turned and stormed away, furious.

Though I was just as livid, I stayed behind to finish cleaning the spill. Also, Elrond still expected me, though I was now dreading the meeting. I rubbed the bridge of my nose tiredly.

"Where did that come from?" Legolas said, turning to me.

"I have no idea," I groaned. "It was like verbal vomit. Why didn't one of you shut me up before I insulted him?" I groaned again and glanced at the floor, wondering if I'd be lucky enough that it would suddenly swallow me whole.

"I've wanted to say that to him for sixty years," Arwen admitted softly, leaning back in her chair. "It's about time someone did."

I glanced up, startled. "What?"

"Estel is family," Elladan (or Elrohir) pointed out. "We are always indignant when he says those things, though most of us have the maturity to refrain," he reprimanded softly.

"Yeah, well, maturity has never been my forte," I said, then paused. "For that matter, neither has sanity or normality." I glanced at the dais, where Elrond was looking at me with one eyebrow raised. "I have to go so that Elrond can yell at me and bodily hurl me out of Rivendell," I said with false cheerfulness. "Later."

I'm pretty sure that men walking to the hangman walk faster than I did; I was terrified of having another accident, but words can't express the fear I felt for the man sitting on the dais.

When I reached the dais (after managing to stall for as long as humanly possible. I'm pretty sure I broke some records), all Elrond did was raise his eyebrow further and gesture for me to take a seat. "I am sorry," I said after giving another of my wobbly 'curtsies,' honestly contrite, though not so much for what I'd said to Galdor as for how I said it.

"For what?" Elrond asked with his customary emotionless face, though his eyes were clearly laughing at me. "I've gone temporarily blind and deaf," he said innocently.

Hmmm...unexpected. Is HE aware he's quoting Dumbledore? I decided not to ask. "In that case, what did you need to speak to me about?" I asked, relieved beyond belief.

"I wanted to talk to you about why you came here," he said, the laughter leaving his voice abruptly. "Or, rather, about discovering why you came here."

"I don't follow," I said slowly, giving him a blank look.

"There is a reason you came here, that much we know. Now, there is a draught we shall give you tonight that is said to inspire visitation by the Valar."

"Not to sound ungrateful," I said slowly, "but (1) ick, more medicine, and (2) you're giving me a hallucinogen?"

"No, I'm giving you a draught that places you into a spirit plane. The Valar have only taken such active roles twice before: once when they brought Andor, and when they removed the Undying Lands from this world, turning the world from flat to globed and thereby sinking Numenor. Both times, these things were foretold by the Valar."

"I thought those were called Seers," I said slowly.

"They are, but occasionally the Valar speak directly to Seers, but only vary rarely. If you take this draught," he said, holding up a vial (I hate medicine), "you might have these visions."

I wondered if he knew he sounded like a drug dealer. "I don't have any choice in this, do I?" I said, resigned to drinking another tar-tasting concoction.

"Not really," he admitted, "but it has the added benefit of being a pain-reliever," he added.

If I'd had ears, they'd have pricked up at this. "No more aching muscles and joints, AND it can save my life in case of a heart attack?" I asked with false enthusiasm, referring to the TV commercials.

Obviously, he didn't get the joke.

"Never mind, just trust me that it was funny," I said dismissively, taking the proffered bottle from him. "When do I have to take it?" I asked. "And how much?"

"The entire vial, and right now would be preferable," he said (probably because he thought I wasn't going to take it if I had the chance to throw it away).

Curses. I hate it when people ruin my plans. I grimaced and uncorked the vial. Looking at the bottle in disgust, the old rhyme came to me. "Over the lips and past the gums; look out, stomach, here it comes," I recited before tipping the vial into my mouth like a shot.

And, like a shot, it burned all the way down. And tasted HORRIBLE.

Gagging slightly, I glared at Elrond. "That wasn't medicine, was it? You just made something nasty and wanted to see someone drink it," I said grimly.

"Though the idea has merit," he said dryly, "it was actual medicine. But the look on your face was just as priceless," he added.

Stupid elves.

"The medicine is slow acting, so it will take effect about the time you go to bed," he said.

"Then I still have lessons with Aragorn," I groaned, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. I cracked one eye open and looked at Elrond. "Don't suppose you could tell Aragorn that I can't come to sword practice cause…I don't know…because I died," I suggested hopefully.

"No, I cannot," Elrond said, amused.

"Ah, shot down," I sighed before standing.

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The Sun had already sunk beyond the horizon by the time Aragorn let me go. Deciding to humor my aching joints, I opted to head to the bathing house before I went to bed. "Twelve laps around the freaking ring," I grunted, sinking into the steaming bath water. "Ten laps around a ring the size of a football field because I made ONE sarcastic comment about feeding the Ring to Bill the pony instead of taking it to Mordor. And he doesn't think he's overreacting at all."

"I think we've already established that men 'suck', as you call it," said a feminine voice beside me.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I glanced up to see the elleth from the night before getting into the pool. I hate it when elves sneak up on one. They walk so silently. It's kind of annoying. "Hi," I said, smiling. "I actually can't remember your name," I said sheepishly, "though I'm glad to see you."

She smiled. "We didn't exchange names. My name is Alatariel."

"I'm Rose. And I'm in serious pain," I said cheerfully.

"I can see the bruises," she said, smiling. "Well, the bruises fade, but the knowledge lasts."

"Knowledge," I snorted, "what knowledge? All I can remember is the pain and the sight of my wooden stick flying out of my hand as Aragorn rids me of it yet again."

She laughed. "What type of sword are you training to use?"

"Dual short swords," I said, closing my eyes as I sank farther into the steaming water.

"Truly? That is what I use," she said, her voice surprised. "Perhaps I can show you a few tricks."

I cracked one eye open and looked at her. "Yay, more people to beat me up with a sword," I said sarcastically. "Besides, Aragorn would probably make me do more laps if he found out I had another teacher."

"Considering I was training for the Guard long before Estel was even born, I truly doubt he will have a problem with it."

"How old are you?" I asked, curious.

"In a month and a half, I shall be 1,086. Now close your mouth, Seer, you are not a dragon breathing fire," she said, clearly amused.

"One thousand and eighty-six," I repeated incredulously. "I'm seriously surprised you aren't referring to me as 'child' and 'youngling.'"

"I may yet," she teased, "for you are very young even by mortal standards."

"I'm seventeen. In two months, I will be considered as an adult in my world," I sniffed.

"You wouldn't be allowed to leave the house alone by elven standards," she snorted.

I glared at her in what I hoped was a suitably intimidating fashion. Apparently it wasn't, because she started cracking up. "You look like an enraged dwarf," she snorted with laughter, giggling helplessly.

My jaw fell open in disbelief and, without skipping a beat, I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her under while she was still giggling.

Giggling, I hauled myself out of the pool before she could surface, and I sprinted to the dressing rooms, slamming and locking the door as fast as I could.

A split second later, I heard her banging on the door for revenge.

Having grown attached to my limbs (no pun intended) and having no inclination to have Alatariel part them from me, I opted for exit B: the ventilation window. I took a running jump (impressive for the small, closet sized changing room) and grabbed for it.

Okay, you know how, in the movies like Tomb Raider or Kill Bill, the heroine can always grab the window and make a graceful escape at the last split second?

Apparently, this was going to run more along the lines of Dumb and Dumber or Borat. Instead of catching the window ledge and pulling myself up, I ran into the wall and winded myself.

I doubled over and grabbed my sides, wheezing as I tried to persuade my lungs to work. Like the ventilation window in the Guard's barracks, this was high up, which was extremely inconvenient for short little 5'4 me.

Lungs still protesting and threatening to go on strike, I pulled the small bench over and stepped onto it, wondering why in the world this idea couldn't have occurred to me BEFORE I ran face first into the wall.

Pulling myself up, I glanced down the other side of the wall. And had a heart attack as I saw how far down it was.

"Oh, hell no," I said flatly as I gazed all the way down. It was at least thirty feet. If it was jumping that distance versus the elf on the other side of the door, I was willing to take my chances with the elleth.

Luckily, there was a tree branch beside the window. Unluckily, it was about three feet out of reach.

I glanced back at the door, which was still rattling as Alatariel pounded on it and yelled at me for getting her hair wet (elves. Weird.).

I turned back to the branch and decided to chance it.

I'm not Catholic, but I crossed myself anyway before girding my loins and bringing my feet up to stand on the windowsill. "Goodbye, cruel world," I sighed.

Then, taking a deep, calming breath (which did absolutely nothing, so the next time someone advises you to do that, throw something at them), I lunged for the branch.

As I was flying through the air, it occurred to me that the last time I'd jumped for something was only a few moments ago and I'd missed and ended up running into a wall. I HATE my lack of common sense.

I almost missed the branch, but managed to grab it with one hand. "I didn't think this out all the way," I commented dryly as I hung there, still thirty feet off the ground, and now without a second, less-painful exit (though it was still guarded by the elleth).

"Okay, I can deal with this," I said encouragingly to myself, ignoring the sarcastic voice in the back of my mind pointing out all the worst case (and sadly likely) scenarios.

Thinking for a few minutes, it occurred to me that I'd been in a position like this before. Though monkey bars were noticeably far closer to the ground. And the bars were small enough for me to wrap my hands around. And were approved for safety.

I told the voice that was pointing all these things out that it could shut up. And yes, I am completely aware that it is in no way normal to have arguments with a disembodied voice in one's head. But then, normalcy is overrated.

Gritting my teeth, I put one hand in front of the other on the branch, and sort of…well, WALKED my way to the base of the tree.

Mental Rose did a little victory dance which (sadly) involved the electric slide and the moonwalk.

Slowly, I made my way down the tree by clambering from one branch to another (which was extremely difficult in a skirt since it kept getting stuck beneath my feet).

I was only fifteen feet away from the ground when I stepped on my dress again.

Unfortunately, I'd set all my weight on that one foot and my grip on the branch above me was tenuous at best. With the skirt taking away all the friction the bark of the tree provided, my bare foot slipped and I fell backward out of the tree.

And landed on a conveniently placed elf. Well, convenient for me. Not so much for him. I managed to knock both of us to the ground, with him breaking my fall.

Shaking my head to clear it, I rolled off him and stood up, offering him a hand to his feet. "Hey, you're the elf who didn't turn us in at the barracks," I said, recognizing him instantly when I caught sight of his face. "Sorry 'bout that," I said as I helped him to his feet. "I kind of lost my footing."

"Indeed, it is all right. I should be more aware of my surroundings, though you do tend to be accident prone," he said, straightening to (an admittedly impressive) 6'5 at the very least. "As this is the second time we've encountered one another, I shall introduce myself. I am Lindir."

I blinked. "As in the elf who spoke to Bilbo at the Hall of Fire," I asked, holding out my hand. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Rose," I said. I chose to overlook the fact that he'd also told Bilbo that all mortals looked the same.

He grinned. "I know. Remember, I was at the Council of Elrond. I congratulated you on joining the Fellowship."

"Right," I said sheepishly. "Forgot."

He shrugged (a very un-elf like thing to do, if you ever get the chance to meet an elf). "Most mortals do."

I blinked. "Are you joking?" I asked warily, not sure whether or not I'd actually managed to find a racist elf.

"Yes," he replied, his mouth twitching up in amusement. "I truly care not whether you are a daughter of Edain or of Eldar. Actually, I must say that I have wanted to speak privately with you for a long while, ever since I first heard of you."

I blinked. "Why?" I asked, slightly wary.

"Elves are terrible gossips," he said, shrugging again. "And I wanted to see if even half the rumors are true."

"Well, ask away," I said warily, "but let's go inside. It's cold, I'm barefoot, and my hair's still wet," I said, wiggling my toes. "Now let's go. I'm used to a warmer climate, and this is freezing to me. I feel like my hair is starting to ice over."

"I assure you it's not," he said dryly, though he offered his arm.

It was slightly awkward to take his arm because of our vast height difference, so, in the end, we simply walked side-by-side and talked.

"What did you want to ask me?" I inquired as we left the grassy area and started walking on stone. I noticed that it was actually easier to walk in the dress now that I was barefoot. The irony wasn't lost on me.

"Is it true that you are from another time?" he asked. "And that you know our future?"

"Yep. That is why I'm going on the quest," I said.

"What about the other language you supposedly speak?" he said doubtfully.

"You mean this language?" I asked in English, grinning at his surprised face.

"Well, that's….unexpected," he said slowly.

I cocked my head to the side and shrugged. "Most people say that about me."

"Well, if your language is different," he said slowly, "then your culture must be as well, if your odd behavior is anything to judge by."

I narrowed my eyes at him. What was he getting at?

"And if your culture is different, then I would be willing to bet that your culture's songs are different, as well," he said with a grin.

"Oh, hell no!" I said emphatically, holding up a hand to stop any further hints of his. "Yes, they are, but there is no way in hell that I'm singing. For one, your ears would probably start to bleed. For another, you wouldn't understand any songs from my world. They'd have references to things you wouldn't understand, and they'd be in English even if you COULD understand the references."

"Please, my lady," he said. 

"No," I replied, completely unmoved by his puppy dog eyes. You know Puss n' Boots, from Shrek? That's the look Lindir gave me. "Don't look at me like that," I snapped. "I know that look. I've USED that look. It won't work!"

His look intensified.

I hate elves sometimes. "Fine," I said, exasperated. "I'll write it down for you!"

"Then how will I know the tune?" he said slyly, grinning like the cat who got the cream.

"NO!" I said emphatically. "I'm not going to sing. Why do you want me to sing so badly anyway?" I asked warily. "Elves have prettier voices."

His grin widened. "Because I cannot imagine a lady as fair as yourself not being able to sing with the voice of an angel." I just put my hand on my hip and waited. "And," he added after a moment, "because I pride myself on being the first bard in Middle-Earth to do most things. It would gravely insult me if some OTHER bard heard a song from your world before I did," he spat the word disgustedly.

My lip twitched in amusement. "I see that male ego transcends race and time," I commented dryly. "But, okay, I'll bite."

He frowned in confusion. "Bite what?"

"The line and hook you just tossed me," I said dryly again. "So, you want to hear a song. Alright, it's going to have to be short." After a moment of thinking, I sighed. "My self-respect is about to take a swan-dive, but here it is:

"I hope you're doing fine out there without me  
'Cause I'm not doing so good without you  
The things I thought you'd never know about me  
Were the things I guess you always understood  
So how could I have been so blind for all these years  
I guess I only see the truth through all this fear of living without you

And everything I have in this world  
And all that I'll ever be  
It could all fall down around me  
Just as long as I have you right here by me

I can't take another day without you  
'Cause, baby, I could never make it on my own  
I've been waiting so long just to hold you  
And to be back in your arms where I belong  
I'm sorry I can't always find the words to say  
But everything I've ever known gets swept away  
Inside of your love

And everything I have in this world  
All that I'll ever be  
It could all fall down around me  
Just as long as I have you right here by me

As the days roll on I see  
Time is standing still for me  
When you're not here  
I'm sorry I can't always find the words to say  
Everything I've ever known gets swept awayInside of your love

x2  
And everything I have in this world  
And all that I'll ever be  
It could all fall down around me  
Just as long as I have you right here by me"

(Three Doors Down - Here by me)

"See that wasn't so bad," he said cheerfully. "You have a fairly good voice for a human. Now I'm going to need you to write it down, and then I'll need to memorize the chords so I can play it on a harp or lute," he trailed off, thinking out loud.

I grimaced. "Whatever. Just remember," I said, leaning forward slightly, "you must speak of this to NO ONE. I'd never hear the end of it. Now," I said, changing the subject, "I'm going back to my room to salvage what self-respect I still have."

He bowed and, after giving a brief 'curtsey' (I really have to learn how to do it properly), I trotted off to find my room, my bare feet slapping on the cold stone floor.

It was then that I saw Mr. Pissy Elf himself striding down the hall towards me, though he hadn't spotted me yet.

Quite frankly, my self-respect couldn't take any more beatings today, so I simply chose the easiest path (some of you may say 'cowardly' would be a better word choice) and leapt over the small railing and crouched on the grass until he passed.

When he was gone, I leapt back over the railing and headed to my room (making it there within half an hour! Go me!), and collapsed on the bed in exhaustion. I fell into an exhausted sleep.

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A bright light filled the room, successfully ripping away the beautiful blankets of sleep. Oh. Wait. Those were my ACTUAL blankets.

Groaning some unintelligible threat to Aragorn about waking me up before dawn, I reached down and tried to pull the blankets up, my eyes still closed. My blankets were no longer there.

I cracked an eye open. Then hastily shut it again as blinding light burned my eye. "What in the hell," I hissed, holding my hand up to shield my eyes from the light.

"I should hold that against you," a voice said dryly, "but I won't."

As if someone flipped a switch, the light went out and I opened my eyes warily.

A blue-eyed man was standing there, completely dressed in black, from black slacks to a black turtleneck sweater, black rimmed glasses and short, black, gelled hair. He was the epitome of the modern-day intellectual.

"Who are you?" I asked warily. "Obviously, you're from my own time, but how did you get here?"

"I am the Iluvatar," he said dryly. "And it's a good thing I have a sense of humor or I'd be insulted."

Intimidated and slightly wary, I didn't say anything. I think they just found the way to shut me up.

"You are wondering why I brought you here," he said in amusement, meandering around the room and examining things calmly. He glanced back at me. "Well, I could say that you shouldn't question the Gods, but having lived among them and being one of them, I can assure you we are quite fallible and should be questioned frequently."

Wow, he doesn't get to reassure people anymore. His privileges are revoked. When his mouth twitched in amusement, I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. "You're reading my mind, aren't you?" I accused.

"Blatantly," he said cheerfully.

"If you aren't nice, I'll start singing the Barney song in my head," I warned.

He looked horrified. "What did I ever do to you?" he asked indignantly.

I gave him a you-must-be-kidding-me look.

"Oh, right. That. About that," he said conversationally, "you're still wondering why. Well, I have other things to do and other places to be, so I'll keep this short and to the point. You're here because you have to save Boromir. His descendants will bring the elves back to Earth, restoring it to its former goodness, purity, and glory." His mouth twitched in amusement. "No pressure, eh?"

My eyes widened in horror.

"Well, that and we were bored," he said, shrugging, "but then we accidentally corrupted the human race, and that's when Zeus got all pissy on us, so now we have to fix it."

My mouth dropped open in horror. How did I manage to find the one Valar with a warped sense of humor? "But why me?" I asked slowly, not sure if I really wanted to hear this.

He shrugged again. "Well, we gave everyone who knew about Middle Earth a stick, and guess who pulled the short one."

Oh. My. God.

"Anyway, good luck with that," he said cheerfully. "Don't screw up too bad." And with that little jewel of advice, he poofed out.

My mouth was still hanging open in horror.


	10. the little pisser named Elrond

Disclaimer: in my next life, I'm going to own it. Unfortunately (or fortunately), I haven't died yet.

Author's Note: When I take over the world, there will be no more school, and the Earth will be renamed Arda, and everyone will call me Lady Doom.

I just thought you should know.

Chapter Ten:

I leapt off my bed and ran, barefoot and in my white satin (Elrond might be sexist, but he has good taste) nightdress (apparently, women in this era couldn't even use sleep to escape the monstrosities), to my door and threw it open, intent on finding Elrond.

And stopped dead, my eyes widening in fear and shock.

I can't win for losing.

Actually, I can't remember winning at all.

Silently, I watched as (opaque, for the record) spirits glided through the halls of Imladris, their expressions so sad and wistful that it made my heart ache. The sorrow, the yearning want of what once had been, and the deep ache of loss was almost palpable in the air.

In short, it was an emo's paradise.

"_I'm giving you a draught that places you into a spirit plane."_ I sighed as I remembered Elrond's words from this morning.

Tentatively stepping into the hall, I blinked as I saw an elf sitting and reading on a hallway bench.

That wasn't what gave me pause.

It was the fact that the elf was clearly alive, yet SHE was transparent.

Cautiously, I walked over to her (the fact that she didn't look up giving me a big red, blinking clue with huge flags) and tentatively touched her shoulder.

Or tried to.

My hand passed through her, though she shivered and glanced up warily at the contact, as if she could sense the touch rather than feel it.

"They can neither see nor hear you," said a voice across from me. I glanced up to see an elf standing there, his armor that of the first age (shut up, I know I'm a geek for knowing this).

He'd probably died in the Last Alliance.

"I've tried for two ages. There is no way to contact them." He looked at me, his wide, intelligent blue eyes studying and curious. "You do not belong in the Netherrealm . You still are anchored in the mortal world," he said, a question in his voice.

"I am yet mortal, and cannot remain here. I entered this plane by the drought my Lord Elrond gave me, and will likely return when it wears off," I replied softly. Something about the solemnity of this plane made me uncomfortable speaking in a normal tone.

It made you want to speak dramatically and wisely, like Lady Galadriel or something.

"Even so, you are not as the other mortals are. There is something strange about you, an aura of unshakable disillusionment unusual for one so young," he said, his face as emotionless as his bottomless eyes.

I frowned, briefly disconcerted by someone reading me so easily. No one saw anything about me that I did not want them to see.

I quickly shook it off.

"It is because I have no pants," I said solemnly.

Meh. It was as good an excuse as any.

His lips twitched.

HA! I got dead boy to laugh.

"All these spirits, are they elves," I asked, gesturing around us.

He walked over to me, his every movement possessing more grace than a prima ballerina. "No, some are were mortal men that died in the Great Battle, others have died in Imladris when their wounds were too great to heal."

"I thought that elves passed to the Undying lands when they died," I asked.

"Most do, but some choose to stay, wishing to protect their remaining kin. When their families leave these shores, they will follow."

"And the mortal men," I said warily.

His eyes saddened. "They were sinners in life, and cannot join their families in the afterlife. They are doomed men. They will remain here unto the ending of the world."

For some reason that made me incredibly sad. "And they have no chance of redeeming themselves," I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"They had their entire lives. They will remain here until the Iluvatar sees fit to free them."

"And what of those good men who died fighting for good," I asked, disheartened at the thought of such irresponsible gods holding so much power.

"They are few in number that remain here, that were once good men. When their souls passed from the mortal world, the Iluvatar offered them the chance to defend their families in death. Now, they ride out and defend the living from those spirits that would do them harm."

That gave me pause. "Are there many that would do us harm," I asked warily, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Men do not become good upon death. If anything, the bad become worse and the good become better. They can do anything with impunity."

"And these are the only men who can protect mortals," I asked, frowning.

"Yes. The battle has waged for millennia beyond count, and will continue until the ending of the world. Yet these men defend the living willingly because they keep their families safe and…" he paused, looked hard at me, then kept going, keeping our eyes locked together, "and because there are the very rare few who are able to see them when they reveal themselves."

What was with that look? That look wasn't a look that would bode well for me.

I didn't like that look.

"What's with that look," I asked warily, though really, really, REALLY didn't want to find out the answer.

He leaned forward and I realized he was getting pumped up for his dramatic 'doom and despair' speech'.

"Those few of the living that cross into the realm of the dead are forever bound to us. You will never be free of us. You are bound to this realm forevermore, and we to you."

"But I don't wanna to be the kid from The Sixth Sense," I wailed, my loud cry ringing in the silent halls.

The ghosts who had been floating along so morosely glanced up. One particularly old and grandmotherly woman glared and shushed us.

This threw him momentarily, because he blinked and straightened with a puzzled look on his face. "I know not what you speak of, but I assure you that it is not as bad as you seem to think it is. From now on, you may call on one of us if need be, for we can both her and see you, and have been granted permission by the Valar to advise those few who enter here."

I blinked.

"Riiiiiiiight," I said warily. "How do I get out of here?" I had no wish to stay in this place any longer. The sorrow and pain seemed to be seeping into my very bones.

Not a pleasant feeling.

He silently gestured back the way we'd come. "Return from whence you came and, when you are in a place that no one is able to see you, simply think of what it feels like to be alive, and your soul shall return to your body."

Tentatively, I started on my way back to the room. Though I desperately wanted to be back in the living world before I went crazy from a loss and pain that wasn't even my own, I wasn't really sure I could return by just wishing for it.

"Rose," he called after me as I was about to enter my room. How did he know my name anyway? "You may enter this realm now whenever you wish. All you must do is recall this feeling you have right now, and you will return."

I wasn't entirely sure I wanted that knowledge, so I merely nodded, saying nothing.

He bowed and I inclined my head in farewell.

I walked through the open door to my room, closing it as soon as I was inside.

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it felt like to be alive.

If you've never NOT been alive, it's hard to understand the heaviness of your body, the slow, steady pounding of your heat beating its steady rhythm, or the calming rise and fall of your own chest.

But, if you ever DO cease to be alive for a short amount of time, you'll realize exactly how comforting it is to feel your body again.

I opened my eyes and blinked as sunlight blinded me.

I must have been in the Netherrealm longer than I thought if dawn had come already.

And suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, my sorrow and pain snapped into fury.

I threw on a dress and stormed down the halls (which looked FAR more welcoming) and down to the Great Hall.

There he was, the little pisser, sitting on the dais.

I stormed up to the dais, barely noticing that both elves, dwarves, and humans moved out of my way hastily.

"Yo', Elrond," I snapped, planting my hands on the table in front of him. "Forget to mention a little some'n some'n about the potion? Oh, like that I now have to buy a shirt with 'I see dead people' on it?"

His eyebrow twitched up. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You don't have any idea what I'm talking about," I repeated sarcastically. Then I noticed the truth in his eyes and my anger deflated. "You don't have any idea what I'm talking about," I sighed. "Great, now I can see dead people and I have no one to blame."

No emotion showed in Elrond's face, but something about his eyes gave me pause.

He was LAUGHING at me the little pisser!

I glared at him. "Fine, be that way. But I want you to know that you are now on my list."

And with that less than witty retort, I spun and walked away. "Kind as summer my ass," I muttered as I stormed, not paying attention to where I was going.

Since I wasn't paying attention to my walking, I tripped on my dress and fell face first on the ground. Cursing, I started to push myself up, then froze as something caught my eye.

Something blue, worn from use, and made of denim.

I didn't even bother to get to my feet, just scrambling on hands and knees (difficult in a dress, but I did it) to the basket where my beloved jeans were buried at the bottom.

Not giving a fig for any of the other clothes in the basket, I ripped my jeans from the bottom, closing my eyes as I cradled them to my chest.

"Jeans. I love you, jeans," I sighed.

Shut up, you'd have done it too.

"My Lady," said a tentative voice behind me, "what are you doing with the scraps?"

My eye twitched.

"My Lady," the voice asked again.

I sprang to my feet and sprinted down the hall.

"YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME NOW, COPPAS," I shrieked triumphantly as I sprinted down the hall with my prize.

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Now that I could walk ten feet without landing on my face (I'm never wearing a skirt again), time seemed to pass much faster.

Granted, sword practice still seemed to creep along like molasses in December, but everything else flew by.

Aragorn even let me hold my swords…before taking them away again when he found out I'd asked Alatariel to train me.

Big baby.

Alatariel was awesome though.

Meaning she actually let me USE my swords, rather than looking at them as they flew out of my hands.

Unfortunately, she eventually deemed me good enough to spar.

With members of the fellowship.

Meaning Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf, and Boromir.

Needless to say, I got my ass handed to me on a platter every time.

Not that I'm bitter.

October passed into November, and I found myself celebrating my first Thanksgiving without my family.

You never really realize how important it is to share that day with your family until, suddenly, you realize that you're alone and will likely never see your family again.

Suddenly, you see yourself celebrating many Thanksgiving's alone.

I'm may not be a "let's go frolic in the sunshine with the bunnies" kind of girl, but that would have depressed anyone.

All day, my friends stopped me and asked me what was wrong until I finally locked myself in my room.

And, soon, I was looking at Christmas with no tree, no gifts, no family teasing everyone, and no Christmas dinner.

Since it wasn't any special time in Middle Earth, no one understood why I was suddenly so sad and quite.

Since no one came out and asked me, I guess they chalked it up to pre-quest jitters, or something.

Suddenly, it was Christmas Eve.

I glanced around my room, trying to decide if I'd left anything.

I had enough common sense to pack light, which meant that all that was in my bag were two changes of clothes (unfortunately, one of those changes was the Chase dress, as I so _affectionately_ call it. Elrond refused to have pants made for me, so I had only managed to steal one pair from the tailors), a brush, and other small essentials.

(**Author's note**: I think this is actually a logical problem that a girl would actually have in Middle Earth, so I wrote the next part. Be aware, however, that, though I don't go into any detail, it might embarrass some people. Knowing this, if you skip down to my next author's note, it gets back to the not-so-embarrassing parts)

Suddenly, something occurred to me, something that made me groan and run my hands through my hair.

I'd managed to put it off for as long as I could, but I couldn't put it off any longer.

Now, I had to deal with the dirtier details of being a girl.

Which meant it was off to Alatariel for advice.

I'd never been regular (something I'd gotten from my mother) and only had four or five periods a year, which was how I'd managed this long without having to bring it up.

Gripping my (admittedly small) maturity in hand, I marched out of my room in search of Alatariel.

"Alatariel, I have to ask you something," I called out as I spotted her in the Great Hall. Her head snapped up and she grinned when she saw me, gesturing me to take a seat beside her and the elves she was talking with. I shook my head and waved her over.

"Is something wrong, mellon (friend)," she asked, concern etched on her face.

I'm pretty sure embarrassment was etched across mine.

"I…um…I have to ask you something in private," I murmured, jerking my head towards the door in a gesture that we should talk outside.

Now clearly intrigued (if the lift of her eyebrow was anything to go by), she nodded and gestured for me to go first.

Once outside in private, she looked at me questioningly. "Man anírach cerin an le? (What can I do for you?)."

She was teaching me elvish, so I actually understood what she was saying.

"I have a personal question to ask you," I said warily. "Okay, I'm not sure how to tactfully broach the subject so I'm just going to have out with it. How do Middle Earth women deal with their menstrual cycles?"

She looked momentarily shocked, then amused.

"This is your first cycle then," she asked, her lip twitching in amusement.

It was stupid, I know, but I was gravely insulted that she thought it was my first.

"No," I snapped defensively, "I just don't know how y'all deal with it."

She inclined her head. "I understand. Follow me, we shall go to the healers and I shall teach you."

In the end, it turned out that elves were far more advanced than human women in this time.

They had the same methods that modern-day women use, so I could handle everything discreetly.

Which means that I wouldn't die of embarrassment while traveling with the entirely male fellowship.

(**Author's note**: alright, you can come out of hiding now and can continue to make fun of Rose)

I pulled down the flap to the small bag I'd been given before setting it down on the bed.

Sighing, I walked to the balcony and carefully perched upon it, enjoying my last night's view of Rivendell.

We'd be leaving in the morning.

And I might not be coming back.

I heard light feminine laughter below the balcony, though I couldn't see who it was.

"Melin ceni hin lîn síla i 'eladhach (I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh)," said a warm male voice to the woman.

I realized it was Aragorn.

Which meant he was with Arwen.

I knew I should leave, but I couldn't help it.

I simply rested my head against the pillar I was leaning against, closed my eyes, and listened.

There was silence, then Arwen's soft voice. "Gen melin(I love you)."

After that, the elvish got to complex for me to follow, but I could easily guess what was being said.

They were saying goodbye, possibly, in their minds, for the last time.

Suddenly feeling very alone, I hopped off the railing and slid into bed, my bones achingly tired from sheer exhaustion.

Tomorrow, we leave.

Author's note: sorry for the short chapter. I'll update soon (within a few days) and then the quest will start!


	11. I hate snowand Gandalf

Disclaimer: If I was awesome enough, I would own Lord of the Rings. Unfortunately, I'm not and I don't. (Bursts into tears and runs away).

Chapter 11

I'm up.

And it's early.

The sun isn't even up yet.

I don't like not being up before the sun.

It ends up well for me.

Of course, that didn't stop Pippin from cheerfully jumping on my bed at 5 a.m., loudly screaming "GET UP GET UP GET UP!"

When I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, he simply shrugged and said that turn-about was fair play.

Sometimes, my mother has the suckiest ideas.

So here I am, wearing my jeans (so stick that in your juice box and suck it, Elrond), wishing desperately for coffee or a trip to the hospital for an emergency IV of caffeine.

Worst of all, it was cold.

Freezing, in fact.

Everyone I'd complained to about it (which means everyone within hearing distance) gave me the look that said I was crazy and told me that it wasn't that cold for this late in winter.

Yeah, whatever.

All I'm saying is that I have only been standing outside for fifteen minutes, and I already can't feel my body.

I grimaced and wrapped my cloak around me tighter.

Luckily, however, I had my beauteous converses and I didn't have to carry anything because of Bill.

Ironically, I was the person who'd packed the least.

And yes, I will be mocking them for it.

So now we're all standing around outside for Elrond to finish his speech. Only, it wasn't short and sweet like the movie. Oh, no, Elrond was a true politician.

He'd been talking for the last ten minutes.

And, like any good politician, he'd chosen a time when we all had to stand around and listen.

Wait, wait, I think he might be taking a breath.

"The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On you who travel with him no oath nor bond is laid, to go further than you will." Pause for dramatic effect, then "Farewell. Hold to your purpose. May the blessings of Elves and Men and all free folk go with you."

YAY! I think we just completed the hardest part of the journey.

"The Fellowship awaits the Ring-bearer."

Suddenly, a loud horn-blast echoed through the small Rivendell, the sound bouncing off the mountains.

I turned and looked at Boromir with one eyebrow cocked. "Feel better now?"

He grinned. "'Tis tradition. Every journey starts with the Horn of Gondor sounding the way."

I resisted the urge to make a racy comment, but I couldn't help snickering slightly.

Having stolen Elrond's dramatic moment where he verbally bitch-slaps Boromir for alerting every big nasty in the area to our whereabouts, I turned, grinning cheerfully, followed the rest of the fellowship out of the gates of Rivendell.

Five hours later, guess what we're doing.

Walking.

A lot.

Trotting up to Gandalf, I cheerfully started walking beside him, keeping the silence.

And that's when inspiration struck.

Pasting the most innocent smile on my face, I turned to Gandalf.

"Snickers: it keeps the hunger from _poke'n atcha poken' atcha_," I said, poking him in the side.

He looked at me incredulously. "Excuse me?"

I grinned evilly.

"Snickers: it keeps the hunger from _poke'n atcha poken' atcha_," I said, poking him in the side again.

And suddenly, I knew how I was going to solve all the boredom of this trip.

Gandalf looked at me and put his hand on my forehead, feeling for a fever.

"Nope," I said cheerfully, "not sick and not high. Just A.D.D."

Deciding that silence was the best idea, he merely gave me a wary smile and turned back to walking.

"Fine, don't entertain me," I said, pouting.

I fell back to the middle of the line.

Silence.

Five minutes later…

"Does this remind anyone else of Napoleon's retreat from Moscow," I asked grumpily.

Someone sighed.

Frodo, in a stroke of genius, started singing.

"Upon the hearth the fire is red,

Beneath the roof there is a bed;

But not yet weary are our feet,

Still round the corner we may meet

A sudden tree or standing stone

That none have seen but we alone.

Tree and flower and leaf and grass,

Let them pass! Let them pass!

Hill and water under sky,

Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate,

And though we pass them by today,

Tomorrow we may come this way

And take the hidden paths that run

Towards the Moon or to the Sun.

Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,

Let them go! Let them go!

Sand and stone and pool and dell,

Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind the world ahead,

And there are many paths to tread

Through shadows to the edge of night,

Until the stars are all alight.

Then world behind and home ahead,

We'll wander back to home and bed.

Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,

Away shall fade! Away shall fade!

Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,

And then to bed! And then to bed!

Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate,

And though I oft have passed them by,

A day will come at last when I

Shall take the hidden paths that run

West of the Moon, East of the Sun."

"Aw, now I'm depressed," I muttered, picturing the Faramir's charge into Osgiliath. (In case you didn't notice, those are some of the lyrics from Pippin's song).

"Why are you depressed, Lady," Sam asked.

Well, shit. I couldn't tell them, but I couldn't just refuse to answer.

"Because I'm going to TAKE OVER THE WORLD," I yelled, throwing my hands out dramatically.

Instead of laughing, they all gripped their weapons.

"Damn, tough crowd," I said, put out as I lowered my arms. "Not even a pity laugh, man. You all suck."

Slowly, they all released their weapons, though I noticed that they kept a wary eye on me for the next hour.

Of course, I didn't really care.

I'd just found out that, if I stood in the right position behind Boromir, I could use his shield as a mirror.

I made faces at myself in his shield for several hours.

Ah, it's the simple things that make life great.

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Life sucks.

More to the point, MY life sucks.

We've been walking only at night for the last few weeks.

There are wolves in the woods surrounding us.

I STILL can't keep my swords in my hands for longer than three minutes when Aragorn and I duel.

The men lit what they CLAIM is a fire, but, in my opinion, it's only a fire in the roughest sense of the term.

Did I mention the wolves?

'Cause there are wolves.

But they're not actually wolves.

Yeah, they're werewolves. Know how I know? Cause I know the future, but the Fellowship of _Chauvinists_ refuse to listen to my suggestions that we NOT stay in this PARTICULAR area tonight.

But what do I know? I'm only the F'ING SEER!

Not that I'm bitter.

'Cause, really, I'm not…

I hope the wolves bite all of them in the ass.

Completely non-bitterly, I jabbed extremely NON-viciously at the fire with a long stick.

The men all gripped their weapons tightly, scanning the forest with their eyes while the wolves howled in the dark.

The hours passed slowly and the men decided to try and rest.

Try being the operative word.

I'm pretty sure a 6 year old on Christmas Eve got more sleep than they did.

I, of course, wasn't bothered at all, since I knew that all would end well.

Being vicious and COMPLETELY not bitter, I didn't tell THEM that.

While they dozed restlessly, I simply sat there all through the night, completely alert, and jabbed at the fire, picturing each of their subsequent (and hopefully painful) wounds from not listening to me.

Stupid men.

And then the attack began.

The largest wolf I've ever seen (not that I'd seen many, but still) lunged at me from behind.

Luckily, Legolas hadn't been asleep, and the wolf died before it hit the ground.

I grinned cheerfully at Legolas, giving him two thumbs up while nodding enthusiastically.

I had no idea why. I just felt like it.

Within moments, more wolves poured out of the woods, drawn by the power of the Ring.

For a moment, I was paralyzed in fear.

What time is it?

IT'S TIME FOR DUAL SWORDS, BITCHES!

Whipping out my swords, I promptly forgot all the helpful tips that Aragorn had so painstakingly had me memorize and proceeded to hack and slash gleefully (though not particularly gracefully) at any wolf that came near.

"Having fun," asked a voice EXTREMELY close to my ear.

Needless to say, I shrieked (rather girlishly, I must admit) and whirled around.

And stood face to face with the dead elf from the Netherrealm.

Stupid Netherrealm.

Grimacing, I hastily ducked as a wolf came leaping over my head, then ran it through before turning back to the Elf o' Death.

"Couldn't have picked a better time," I asked sarcastically as I scanned the area for more wolves. It was empty, and the rest of the Fellowship had started cleaning their weapons.

"Who are you talking to," Sam asked, wiping off his small sword.

I gestured vaguely at the elf. "Mr. Doom and Death." I cocked my head to the side as I looked at the spirit. "What IS your name?"

"I am Valandil," he said, placing a hand over his heart and bowing.

"He's Valandil," I repeated to Sam, who looked worriedly between me and the elf.

Gandalf snorted and drew my attention.

"He cannot see Valandil, Rose. None of them can. They haven't been to the Netherrealm."

I eyed Gandalf. "Can you?"

He nodded.

I looked at him with wary hope. "Any idea how I can stop seeing them?"

Valandil looked offended in that way that only elves can: simultaneously dignified, prissy, and constipated.

"I'm afraid you must simply get accustomed to their presence," Gandalf said, his eyes grinning devilishly though his face was the picture of sympathy.

My eye twitched.

Moria was gonna suck.

My eyes flicked back to Valandil. "Shouldn't you be somewhere else? Like spewing out more prophecies of doom?"

He glared at me. "Why should I do that when I can bask in such a bright ray of sunshine like you," he asked sarcastically.

"Oh, the Ghost of Christmas Past has jokes," I shot back, putting my hand on my hip. "Bring it on, Sparky."

He glared and opened his mouth to retort, but Gandalf interjected.

"Children, stop bickering. You aren't helping."

I cackled while Valandil looked at Gandalf, horrified. "Child? CHILD! I have seven hundred years on you,_ youngling_!"

Gandalf raised one bushy eyebrow challengingly. "And I'm still in corporeal form, so who wins this argument now?"

Until that moment, I've never seen an elf actually squawk in indignation.

Gandalf is now officially my favorite.

Cursing in elvish, he glared at Gandalf before disappearing with a pop.

I turned to Gandalf.

"Thank you for that. I can die happy now," I said, cheerfully clapping him on the shoulder.

His lip twitched slightly as he glanced at the rest of the Fellowship, who looked both bemused and confused.

"Need I even ask," Aragorn asked warily, apparently voicing the thoughts of the rest of them.

I could have kissed Gandalf for what he said next.

It was simply sheer genius.

He looked Aragorn dead in the eye and removed all trace of humor from his face. "That was Sauron. He owes me money from the First Age, and I summoned him to collect."

Gimli guffawed.

"You are now my favorite," I informed Gandalf cheerfully.

"A dubious honor, I'm sure," he retorted idly as he sat down by the fire again.

"And now you're on my hit list," I said cheerfully without missing a beat.

"Indeed," he said vaguely, making it clear he wasn't paying attention. And indeed he wasn't. His attention had been caught by Aragorn, who was wiping off his sword as he studied the wolves.

Apparently, I'm great at holding people's attention with my witty repartee.

Calmly, I walked over to where he knelt, lifting my skirt slightly as I picked my way over the wolf corpses to keep it from the blood.

Squatting beside him, I squinted, trying to see what he was staring at, but it was too dark. All I could see were the shapes of arrows sticking out of the corpse and dark black puddles of blood.

"What is it," I asked as the others slowly went back to what they were doing, though Legolas, Gandalf, and Boromir joined the two of us.

"These wolves are too large." He lifted a paw and showed me. "Do you see? His paw is nearly as large as my hand. That's not natural in a wolf."

I nodded. "These aren't normal wolves. Actually, they aren't wolves at all. These are werewolves. And they aren't dead," I said, standing up calmly. "These wolves won't be here tomorrow morning. Now, since we aren't going to be attacked again tonight, I'm going to bed."

"How can you say with any certainty that we won't be attacked again," Boromir asked, standing up with me.

I glanced back over my shoulder at him and gave him a dry look. "'There's your sign,'" I quoted with a roll of my eyes. The other's obviously didn't get the reference, but got the point. I can't believe he even asked that. Yawning slightly, I trotted over to my bedroll and, taking off my belt holding the sword-sheaths, slipped under the blanket.

"How can you sleep at a time like this," Sam asked incredulously.

I blinked. "At a time like what? I just said we aren't going to be attacked again tonight. Plus, I'm a teenager. Sleep is pretty much the only thing I do." I paused, then amended, "well, that and sarcasm. Besides," I said, pointing at an adorable (after all, hobbits are the cutest creatures ever to walk the face of the planet) figure curled beside the fire, "Pippin beat me to it."

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"Two, one, five. Good. Very good."

Boromir was training the hobbits in sword-play.

Aragorn didn't let ME wait to train. Oh, nooo, I just HAD to learn in Rivendell where I got my ass kicked.

Stupid Aragorn.

Bored, I closed my eyes and listened to everyone's actions, waiting for my cue to dramatically yell for everyone to hide quick cause the Hitchcock's birds are coming to kill us all!

Was that too sarcastic?

Yeah, too sarcastic.

"If anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note they're not, I'd say we were taking the long way round. Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin, Balin, would give us a royal welcome," I heard Gimli say.

"No Gimli, I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice."

Now, I'd always wondered why Gimli didn't take offense to that.

I mean, if it were me, I'd be asking Gandalf what the hell he was trying to say about my cousin.

Unfortunately, I couldn't point that out to Gimli as that was my cue to yell and scream.

Calmly, I sat up, my legs sprawled out in front of me.

Gimme a break, I'm too lazy to get up to yell.

"Aaaaragoooorn," I yelled, shutting my eyes and tilting my head back as I bellowed, "Saruman's icky crebain from Dunland are about to be creepy and spy on us. I suggest we take cover so they don't see us." With that, I nodded.

THAT got Aragorn's attention.

He scanned the sky, but they crebain were too far away for his mortal eyes, and he saw only cloud.

"I see nothing," Aragorn said in confusion as he scanned the area.

"HE believes me," I said indignantly, pointing to Legolas. "Besides, didn't we learn anything with the wolves?"

"She is right, Estel. That is no cloud," said Legolas, pointing.

"Of course I'm right," I said indignantly. "And you would all realize this if you would PAY ATTENTION TO ME!"

They continued to ignore me.

Fingering a pebble and glaring at Aragorn, I debated hurling it at him.

Deciding against it, I simply slid under a bush and glared at all of them.

I HATE men sometimes.

"Crebain from Dunland! HIDE," Legolas yelled.

That's my boy, Legolas. Never afraid to point out the obvious.

Yeah, now they all hide.

Seconds later, the birds o' death hurtled over us, screaming and otherwise being annoying.

Slowly, everyone crawled out of hiding.

"Spies of Saruman! The passage South is being watched. We must take the Pass of Caradhras," Gandalf said, gazing warily at the intimidating mountain in the distance.

"Apparently," I snapped, standing, "we DIDN'T learn our lesson from the wolves. Everyone repeat after me: the Seer is ALWAYS RIGHT!"

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I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow.

I thought you should be aware.

That I hate snow.

Cause I do.

And there's a lot of it.

All around me.

And it's wet. And cold.

And icky.

And Legolas won't stop singing.

And walking on the snow.

In an annoyingly prancing manner.

It is seriously taking all my willpower not to 'accidentally' let it slip that Caradhras isn't the scenic route that Gandalf seems to think it is, and that we would be much better going through the Mines of Moria.

Well, 'better' comparatively speaking.

Did I mention the snow?

Cause there's a lot of it.

I wonder if I'm the only one who wants to stick my arm out and trip Legolas just to piss him off.

I can't be the only one.

It's SO tempting.

Stupid elf.

HAHA! I see Gimli eyeing his feet too! He's thinking the exact same thing I am!

I knew I liked dwarves.

As slowly and non chalantly as I could, I stuck my arm out in Legolas' path.

DAMN IT!

He stepped over it.

Curses.

A large brown something rolling passed me caught my eye and I did a double take.

Did a large terd just roll passed me?

Nope, just Frodo.

Wait, that means –

Aw, crap.

Going as fast as I could (which was actually pretty fast considering I was knee deep in snow) I went after Frodo, scanning the ground for the Ring.

Unfortunately, Boromir, being a man, had longer legs and got there first.

"It is a strange fate we should suffer so much fear and doubt…over so small a thing. Such a little thing," he murmured, his eyes riveted on the Ring as he reached a gloved hand out to touch it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aragorn's hand tighten on his sword.

I held a hand out to forestall him, silently telling him to let me handle this.

Gingerly, I put a hand on Boromir's hand before he could touch the Ring.

"Boromir." He glanced down at me and for a moment, I saw such unguarded pain in his eyes that it nearly stole my breath. It was gone as quickly as it came. "Give the Ring to Frodo. Spare yourself this torment," I said soft enough that only he could hear. "We will talk later. I know what's on your mind."

Confident that he would do it (after all, he IS a man of Gondor and would therefore never break his word) I worked my way slowly back to my place in our train.

"Yay, let's go play in MORE snow," I said sarcastically as we started moving again after a moment. "Cause this has been SO much fun."

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Seriously, if I ever see Saruman, I'm castrating him.

Publicly.

I grimaced and wrapped my less-than-effective cloak around me. It had long ago been soaked through with water from the snow, so it's warming abilities were sadly lacking.

It's cold.

I thought you should be aware.

The blizzard Saruman had summoned pummeled us as we made our way over Caradhras.

I miss Georgia. It never snows in Georgia, and when it DOES snow, even a little bit, the entire city shuts down.

But right now, I was specifically missing Georgia summers, when it was so hot and humid that the sweat stayed on your skin as the sun beat down on you. Most of the time, it was so hot that, when you got in the perfect position, you could actually SEE the steam rising from the asphalt.

Right now, I would gladly don a parka and lay on that asphalt and let the sun warm me.

Just thinking about it gave me a sharp pang of loss and made me even colder.

After several more hours, we halted under a rock shelf of sorts because everyone was so exhausted.

We even convinced Gandalf to let us have a fire.

If the meager flame could even be CALLED that.

As everyone sat around the small fire not talking, I lay down on my side, curled into a fetal position, and watched the flame dance.

I was so tired.

Even breathing seemed a huge chore.

And apparently my body thought so too, because I wasn't breathing as deeply or as fast.

Not that I really care.

My eyelids drifted down.

I wasn't even cold anymore.

Actually, I was so warm that I wasn't even shivering.

In the back of my mind, an annoying little runt of a thought started jumping up and down and waving red flags and screaming that these were major signs of hypothermia and that to sleep would be BAD BAD BAD!

I was so tired.

The thought, after several minutes of being ignored, went away.

Vaguely, I could hear someone calling my name, but it was distant and faint and I was just too tired to acknowledge it.

Voices were talking quickly in some language that I could only barely understand.

Common?

I speak Common.

Don't I?

I can only remember English.

I felt someone roughly lifting me up and sitting me on their lap, wrapping their cloak around both of us to share body heat.

I was so tired.

Someone is talking to me.

I can't understand.

"Can't…understand," I croaked, vaguely recognizing my words as English.

Ow, why is someone slapping me?

Ew. Someone is shoving nasty stuff in my mouth.

Choking, I swallowed the disgusting liquid.

And, immediately, warmth flooded my body.

Blinking in surprise, I sat up, now wide awake, and shook my head.

"She's fine. She's waking up," said a deep voice near my ear.

Why am I on Boromir's lap?

Oh, right.

"What IS that stuff," I asked incredulously, looking at the flask in Boromir's hand.

"It's an elvish brew," Legolas said. I was instantly wary. I was still suffering the effects of the LAST brew an elf-lord had given me.

"Sorry about that," I apologized sheepishly.

"You are used to warmer climates, from what you say, and this is likely your first time in serious travel," Aragorn replied, "You have nothing to apologize for."

Reluctantly (his cloak was REALLY warm, and outside his cloak was REALLY cold), I crawled off of Boromir's lap.

Even he seemed to be reluctant to let me go, but it was probably because that meant he had to open the warm cocoon his cloak formed.

"Gandalf," I said, drawing the wizard's attention to me, "we can't stay here. Caradhras is closed to us. We must turn back, and we BOTH know what way we must take."

He gave an unpleasant grimace. "I would take that road only if there were no other choice."

I waved my hands around incredulously. "Cause THIS is the better choice?"

"You know well what lies waiting there," he snapped.

"Yes, I do. But we must still take that road," I snapped back. "But if you absolutely refuse to make a decision, then I say we let Frodo decide where to go."

Simultaneously, Gandalf and Frodo's eyes widened.

"What are our options," Frodo said warily.

"To enter the Mines of Moria or to stay here, when we will have to turn back anyway," I said before Gandalf could get a word in edgewise.

His face tense, Frodo thought for a long moment while Gandalf and I had a glaring contest over the fire.

"We will go through the mines," Frodo said at last.

Gandalf closed his eyes for a moment. "So be it," he said tiredly.

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If Gimli doesn't stop singing about Moria, I swear I'm going to remove his family jewels.

If he absolutely HAS to sing, could he at least TRY to keep it ON key?

Apparently, Legolas thought so to, because he was holding his hands over his ears and glaring daggers at the dwarf.

I snickered.

I had to hand it to the Dwarves, though. Moria's façade was a beautiful and impressive sight.

It even had an aqueduct.

Unfortunately, I knew that aqueducts led from lakes and rivers.

And where there were lakes and rivers, there were big ickies with long tentacles, teeth, and a taste for adorable little hobbits.

Stupid big ickes.

Unconsciously, I edged closer to Frodo protectively.

Shut up, if you met a hobbit, especially one as cute as any of these four, your mothering instincts would kick in too.

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. Not even their own masters can find them when their secrets are lost," Gandalf was saying.

"Why doesn't that surprise me," Legolas said dryly.

I snickered.

Frodo's foot slipped on a rock and splashed into the icy water. He yanked it back with a gasp and a grimace.

"Now…let's see. Ithildin," Gandalf said, running his hand over the cliff face where I knew the door was, "it mirrors only starlight…and moonlight."

Suddenly, the door lit up as the moon came from behind a cloud and graced it with its light. Gandalf pointed with his staff at the illuminated script above the door.

"It reads 'The Doors of Durin - Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter,'" he read aloud.

"What do you suppose that means," Merry asked.

"Oh, it's quite simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password, and the doors will open," Gandalf said with great authority. Getting in his 'I am wizard, hear me roar' mode, he threw his arms wide and intoned "Annon Edhellen, edro hi ammen! (Gate of the Elves, open now for me!)"

Nothing.

"Fennas Nogothrim, lasto beth lammen. (Doorway of the Dwarf-folk, listen to the word of my tongue.)"

Nada.

"Nothing's happening," Pippin whispered to Legolas.

Gandalf shot him a glare for a moment before turning back to the doors and trying to push them open. "I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves...Men...and Orcs."

"What are you going to do, then," Pippin piped up.

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words," Gandalf snapped.

Clearing my throat to get his attention, I glared at Gandalf pointedly.

"How about I just tell you the password," I offered.

"No, the password requires the invocation of a wizard," he said cockily.

I glanced at the closed door, then at the wizard who'd been trying to open it for the last five minutes. "Yeah…I can see that."

Looking like he desperately wanted to stick his tongue out at me, the wizard turned back to the door.

Mentally smirking, I turned and clambered gracelessly onto a large boulder to wait.

Half an hour later, I was literally banging my head against the boulder out of sheer boredom.

"So bored, so bored, so bored, so bored, so bored, so bored, so bored," I sang to myself as I rhythmically beat my head against the rock.

Aragorn had let Bill go, and had already yelled at the hobbits for throwing stones in the water.

So bored.

"Ando Eldarinwa…a lasta quettanya, Fenda Casarinwa… (Gate of Elves…listen to my word, Threshold of Dwarves…)," Gandalf said to the door.

Nothing.

"Oh, it's useless," he said exasperatedly as he sat down beside Frodo.

"Is it just me, or do I hear something coming from the door," I said, bolting upright and gaining Gandalf's attention, just as I'd planned. I held my hand to my ear and frowned, pretending to listen. "Yes, yes, I do! It's saying 'Gandalf, listen to the goddamn Seer or fuck off.'"

Snapping, he whirled and waved his staff at me for a moment like he was about curse me from here to next week, but after a moment he put his staff back on the rock beside him.

"Fine," he snapped. "YOU do it, if you're so certain you can," he challenged.

I couldn't help it: I smirked.

"Mellon," I said, turning my gaze to the door.

Nothing happened.

I glared at the door.

"Mellon," I snapped, my face heated in a blush.

Nothing.

"Perhaps if the two of you _worked together_," Legolas said tentatively.

Gandalf and I eyed each other warily.

"He's too obstinate," I snapped.

"She's a pigheaded youngling," he snapped at the same moment.

We stopped and stared at each other for a moment.

Then that moment passed.

"'_Pigheaded youngling_,'" I repeated indignantly. "Look who's talking!"

"'_Obstinate_,'" he shot back, furious. "I'm leading the Ring to Mordor!"

"WE are leading the Ring to Mordor, _grandpa_," I retorted childishly.

"THEN," Aragorn shouted to get our attention. He continued in a calmer voice, "then you are perfectly matched. Your knowledge," he said, nodding at me, "and your power," he said with a nod to Gandalf.

Gandalf and I glared at each other for a moment.

"Fine," we said together.

"But I don't have to like it," I added peevishly.

"Child," he sneered.

"Geezer," I shot back as we faced the door. "Now, say the elvish word for 'friend'," I instructed snappishly. "And do it before we all get as old as you," I added, just to get the last laugh.

Shut up, I don't care if I'm acting like a five year old.

Besides, HE started it.

"Mellon," he spat, not taking his glare off of me. The door opened and we started to walk inside.

"For the record, my knowledge trumps your power," I hissed in his ear as Gimli bragged about Moria to Legolas.

"In your wildest dreams, maybe," he sneered smoothly as he lit his staff.

"This is no mine, it's a tomb," Boromir said grimly.

Gimli started to wail as Legolas grabbed an arrow, examined it, and cast it away in disgust.

"Goblins," he spat.

Instantly, everyone had their weapons out.

"Shit," I hissed, whirling around as I remembered where I needed to be.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here." I lunged at the hobbits. "Now get out of here, get out!"

I yanked Frodo behind me right before the tentacle would have grabbed him.

Instead, it grabbed me, thinking I was the Ringbearer.

As it tightened around my leg, all I could think of was "Bad. Not supposed to happen."

And I was off my feet, being dragged into the air.

Author's note: am I evil for leaving a cliffy? I promise the next chapter will have more action. I'm debating keeping the next chapter entirely in Moria. Hmm…

Well, that said, REVIEW! And tell me my story doesn't suck.

Cause that makes me happy.


	12. of more cliffies and mean things

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Special thanks to Tomato Sauce for riding my a$$ until I updated, and for general awesomeness, and to PrincessofDarkStars for being the best friend anyone could ever ask for. I wouldn't be who I am today, or have accomplished anything, were it not for you. Thank you for being there.

Chapter 12

I single-handedly slew the evil squid-thing with a surge of my god-like powers and with more skill than all of the men combined, and managed to look breathtakingly beautiful while doing it.

Kinda.

Provided that I didn't slay shit, my god-like powers are laughably non-existent, I have no skills -- at all -- and, in fact, didn't look that great.

In reality, I didn't actually do a whole lot.

Well, I screamed really loud.

Hanging in the air by my ankle, screaming my head off for someone WITH skills to kill the big nasty, the uncomfortable realization dawned on me that I was scared of heights.

It occurred to me that maybe coming to Middle Earth wasn't the best thing that had ever happened to me.

I mean, I've been in some pretty bad situations, but this is by far the worst.

The ground dropped away as the Watcher yanked me up into the air, making me painfully aware of how very far I had to fall, headfirst, if the big nasty simply dropped me.

Luckily, though, the men had been alerted to my little dilemma by my ear-piercing, glass-shattering scream.

"A little help would be useful if it's NOT TOO MUCH TROUBLE," I bellowed as I was hurled around, water splashing everywhere as the Watcher's tentacles kept erupting from the water.

And suddenly the tentacle holding me let go as Boromir slashed it off with his sword. I hurtled endlessly through the air, screaming as the ground rushed up to meet me. I closed my eyes tightly, tensing for the impact of my body meeting the sharp rocks.

An impact that never came.

Boromir caught me. He actually CAUGHT me.

Damn, he's good. Boromir gets a cookie.

I followed Boromir as he sprinted through the doorway after Aragorn with the Watcher close on our heels.

We made it into the mines and watched in tense silence as the Watcher brought the doorway, our only means of escape, crashing down, sealing off the light.

Crap.

Stupid Watcher. I hope it chokes on something and DIES.

The only sound was everyone's heavy breathing.

Bring it on, Tolkien.

Gandalf lit his staff and turned to the almost opaque blackness behind us.

"We now have but one choice. We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world." He made his way carefully up the steps. "Quietly now. It's a four-day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."

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Three days.

We've been walking in silence, surrounded by rotting corpses, and nearly paralyzed by fear, for three stinking days.

_Stinking _being the operative word.

I was terrified, but the stench of death and of evil things permeated every thought.

At the moment, however, it _wasn't_ the stench that was causing problems.

It was my newfound (and rather inconvenient) fear of heights.

Stupid Watcher. I foresee BAD THINGS in its future.

I hope all the other big ickies make fun of it for picking on a girl.

We were edging along behind Gandalf, and, though it was completely black outside our little bubble of light, I could tell roughly where we were by the sounds of our walking echoing off the walls.

"The wealth of Moria was not in gold or jewels," Gandalf was saying, "but mithril." He brought his staff away from his side, and over the edge of the ledge.

Instantly, white light illuminated the enormous cavern, bouncing off all of the silver veins of mithril imbedded in the rock.

But not enough to reach the bottom, which was still black as ink.

Closing my eyes, I leaned back to the wall as everyone else peered over the edge.

For some insane reason, I couldn't help feeling like the edge was going to creep up to me.

My mind snarkily informed me that it was physically impossible for the edge to ACTUALLY move and creep up to me, to which mental Rose asked if it was also physically impossible for a girl to be hurled in Middle-Earth or to be stabbed by the Witch-King of Angmar.

My mind flicked mental Rose the bird.

Is it weird that my mind has arguments with itself?

Suddenly, the company was moving on and I didn't have to look into that great bottomless pit anymore.

Closing my eyes, I started humming _Black Horse and a Cherry Tree_ to get my mind off of it.

Darkness is good. Darkness means I can't see the bottomless pit a few inches to my right. I like darkness. Darkness is my friend.

Abruptly, a white light shown behind me. Pretty positive I knew who it was, I glanced behind me.

And saw nothing.

Frowning, I dropped my eyes to see a glowing version of Gimli.

Oh, crap.

"Gandalf," I hissed. He was still babbling about mithril and stuff to Gimli.

"Gandalf," I tried again. "GANDALF," I snapped at last. He glanced back at me mid-word. "We have some company."

He gave me a look that clearly said 'no, shit, Sherlock.'

"I actually gathered that from seeing them," he said dryly.

Ooh, Gandalf wants to get all snarky.

Okay, Sparky, bring it on.

"Hey, Gandalf, you're proctologist called. They found your head," I snarked.

He regarded me warily for a moment, obviously not understanding the reference. "I have no idea what you are talking about," he said dryly, "but I shall give you credit for the effort you put into it."

My mouth dropped open.

Oh, heeeeeeeeeeeell, no. He did NOT just say that.

"Oh, I just forgot my number one rule: Don't argue with idiots, they drag you down to their level and beat you up with their experience," I hurled back at him.

"Amusing as this is," Aragorn interjected, "I believe we have more pressing matters to attend to than listening to you two argue."

"HA! Totally got the last laugh," I said, wagging my finger at Gandalf.

He glared at me. "She who laughs last is a dimwit."

I marched up to him and brought my face close to his. "Gravestones don't talk back."

With that little jewel of knowledge, I marched back to my place in line behind Legolas.

"I don't like Gandalf very much right now," I informed the elf regally. "He's off my list of favorite people."

"You're not quite sane, are you," he asked warily.

"Not in the least," I assured him.

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Warily, I stared down at the stairs from hell that we'd just climbed.

Seriously, they were practically vertical.

How did the dwarves navigate this place sober, let alone with all the alcohol I've seen even one dwarf suck down?

At least I was wearing my jeans on not the skirt.

Cause then I'd have been screwed.

Right now, we were all sitting around while we waited for Gandalf to get high, relax, and tell us where to go.

Well, THEY were sitting.

I was more or less sprawled on the ground, trying to convince my leg muscles their strike was unnecessary and that I would raise their pay.

They weren't listening.

I think they were forming a union.

"Are we lost," one of the hobbits murmered.

"Yes," I said deadpan, resting my arm above my eyes.

I could feel Aragorn glaring at me.

"Don't give me that look, Strider," I said, not bothering to look up. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"If you don't behave, I'll take away all your shiny objects," he warned.

I raised my head and glared at him.

"Ah, it's that way!"

I glanced at Gandalf, then groaned.

I don't think I can get up.

I grunted as I realized that this would now not only mean that I had to get up, but that we got to fight all the orcs and assorted ickies in the tomb of DOOM and DESPAIR.

Sometimes, I REALLY don't like my life.

Hauling myself to my feet, I grimaced and started walking up the stairs…again.

They might be able to make me walk, but they couldn't stop me from complaining the ENTIRE WAY.

Let the under-the-breath muttering begin.

"If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose," I heard Gandalf wisely inform Merry.

Immediately, I closed my eyes as my mind was flooded with jokes.

"If I may offer some advice," I heard Boromir whisper near my ear, "It is generally easier to navigate stairs when your eyes are open."

I opened my eyes and gave him a dry, disgusted look out of the corner of my eye.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," I said with a roll of my eyes.

His lip twitched. "You need not heed my advice, but, should you stumble and be injured, I will not carry you."

I glared at him and slapped his chest, completely forgetting he was wearing chain mail.

A small detail, but an important one.

I gasped and cradled my hand to my chest protectively.

Boromir suppressed a snicker, but was otherwise unmoved.

"You could at least _pretend_ that it hurt, you sucky person," I snapped.

"But that would have been lying," he said innocently as we followed the rest of the Fellowship down the last of the steps and into Dwarrowdelf.

I shot him a disgusted look. "I dislike you strongly right now."

"I cannot begin to imagine why," he said drolly.

I shook my head as I looked at him. "I so hope you choke on something." I put a surprised look on my face and whirled around, pretending to be bewildered. "What?! Who said that?! It must have been the ghosts." I leaned forward and added in a serious voice, "The ghosts say they don't like you."

He looked distinctly unamused.

Suddenly, Gandalf's voice quieted and I realized that his staff illuminated an enormous hall.

Stone pillars stretched as high and as far as the eye could see, the columns breathtaking in their beauty and magnificence as they faded far back into the darkness.

I had personally seen the great Colosseum in Rome, beheld the Grand Canyon in all its glory, and imagined this moment for years, yet never had I imagined that _anything_, crafted by man or nature, could be this vast, magnificent, or awe-inspiring.

There are no words, in the dictionary of any language, that could do justice to the beauty and awesomeness that I was now standing before.

I was abruptly pulled out of my reverie by Gimli's cry as he ran to the tomb.

I ran in after him on the heels of the men and saw Gimli fall to his knees before the tomb of his kinsmen.

Though I was protestant, I couldn't help crossing myself before I recited the Lord's Prayer in memory and respect for the dead.

"'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.' He is dead then. It's as I feared." Gandalf sighed.

Handing his hat and staff to Pippin (I winced visibly, but couldn't actually say anything about what was coming), he gingerly removed a great tome from the hands of the skeleton guarding it.

"They have taken the bridge…and the second hall. We have barred the gates…but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums...drums…in the deep."

As he spoke, it seemed that the spirits of the dead warriors seemed to rise. Though I was sure only Gandalf and I could see them, I could tell that the others sensed their presence by the looks of unease on their faces.

Gandalf turned the stiff page. "We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark."

I watched, unable to speak, as Pippin began to investigate a skeleton perched on the lip of a well.

"We cannot get out. They are coming."

Cue Pippin.

I watched as first the head, then the body slid almost comically slowly into the well.

I clenched my eyes tightly shut and held my breath, feeling each clash of metal against stone as a physical punch.

Boromir exhaled and everyone shifted, though whether it was out of relief or fear of what was to come, I couldn't tell.

"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity," Gandalf spat loudly, ripping his hat and staff out of Pippin's hands.

"Well, if Pippin ringing the doorbell didn't tell them we were here, you yelling at him sure did," I hissed, moving in front of Pippin unconsciously.

The old wizard glared at me, but the drums started before he could retort.

Despite knowing what was coming, or perhaps because of it, I felt the blood drain from my face.

The rest of the Fellowship was just as pale and scared.

Under other circumstances, I would have made jokes about white face paint or perhaps ghosts, but I was slightly preoccupied.

"Frodo," Sam cried, looking at Sting as it glowed pale blue.

"Orcs," Legolas hissed, turning.

Instantly, my mind filled with possible Captain Obvious jokes that I could use.

"Huh," I said, dumbfounded and impressed with myself. "Who knew that I can be sarcastic even while terrified," I asked Pippin, thoroughly pleased with myself. "I didn't know I had that skill. Go me."

Boromir ran to the door to peer out, but yanked his head back a split second before arrows pierced the door where his head had been.

"Hey, Boromir, there's orc archers watching the door right now. Thought you'd want a heads up," I said helpfully.

He pulled back as Aragorn rushed to help him close the doors. "Normally, your inability to hold an adult conversation is adorable, but right now I need you to focus," he said as Aragorn barked orders to the hobbits. A roar thundered outside that made both of us go quiet. "They have a cave troll," he said, his voice slightly hysterical.

As the men blockaded the door as best they could, the rest of us pulled out our weapons and prepared for a battle that only I knew we would win.

"Aarrgghhh! Let them come! There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath," Gimli roared from atop the grave.

I didn't want to point out that, as far as he knew, he wouldn't be drawing breath for very much longer and that I would greatly appreciate it if he would shut up and stop taunting the orcs.

I watched, holding my breath as the orcs began to break through the door.

**Author's Note:** I would like to express my regret and sympathy for the families of the Virginia Tech shooting. Know that you are in our thoughts and prayers.


	13. Abandon hope, all ye who enter here

**Disclaimer: Well, I don't own anything for or about Middle Earth...but one day I WILL own Boromir, Faramir, and Eomer. It will probably be when I take over the world. **

**Author's Note: Sorry for the VERY delayed update. This story has NOT been discontinued, and WON'T be in the foreseeable future. I just had a lot of stuff I had to do for school and stuff. But it's summer, I am now OFFICIALLY a senior in High School, I JUST had my Wisdom Teeth removed (like, yesterday), and my mouth hurts now. LOL. But it really isn't that bad, I just like to milk the sympathy for all it's worth. Hehe ) **

**Chapter 13**

The first orcs came through the door and suddenly, I was consumed by a fear so profound that it penetrated to the core of my being and stole the very breath from my lungs.

I'd always dreamt of coming to Middle Earth, just like any true fan, and I'd always envisioned myself being the hero, saving everyone with my acts of bravery. But there is no way to even begin to imagine the fear that takes hold when you are confronted with a true foe, one armed to the teeth, and the reality hits you that, though the Fellowship is meant to live, your fate is in no means guaranteed.

For the first time in my life, my will fled me and I let my fear take hold. I stayed with Frodo, pretending to guard him, though, in reality, he was far braver than I.

Gandalf and the hobbits charged into battle, and I followed close on their heels, my sword in a death grip, my knuckles white with the strength of my clutch.

Despite my formerly iron will (well, iron-ish anyway), my hand started shaking and I couldn't help but desperately wish that I was anywhere but here.

That I was _home_.

These weren't werewolves. These were human-like creatures armed to the teeth and wanting to kill anything in their paths. They could kill me in an instant. I knew that the Fellowship would survive (well, except for Gandalf. I think he drew the short straw or something), but I had no such guarantee.

I could die here.

I didn't want to die here. I didn't want to be buried here in a world that I had no family in.

Suddenly, my fear turned into anger, rage at the injustice. I hadn't chosen this, hadn't wanted it. It wasn't fair. I didn't want to die here. I _wasn't _going to die here!

I wish I could say over that something came over me and that I couldn't control myself, but that would be lying. I knew exactly what I was doing, I had complete control, and I felt no remorse, only anger as all-consuming as the fear had been, as I cut down anything in my path.

Over the next few minutes (or was it hours? It seemed like an eternity), I methodically killed anything in my path, and though my blade and form were nowhere near as fluid as Aragorn's or as clean as Boromir's, they were just as efficient.

In the back of my mind, it occurred to me that the cave troll would stab Frodo any moment now. I glanced up and realized how close to Frodo I was. Maybe I had kept by him in an unconscious effort to protect him, or maybe it was pure happenstance, but it was sure as hell convenient.

Indeed, as I lopped the head off an orc and looked around for Frodo, I spotted him, his eyes wide with terror as the cave troll cornered him. At that moment, I did the only thing I could think of.

I whistled.

"Whoa ugly," I said, recoiling from shock as the beast turned its attention on me. I shook my head to clear the shock-factor and locked eyes with it. "Frodo, run," I commanded, not breaking eye contact with the creature as I backed away from where the hobbits were. Frodo didn't hesitate.

Now, here's the thing about instinctive acts of bravery: as the "instinctive" thing probably implies, you rarely have time to think it all the way through. Now, having gained the troll's undivided attention, I had the rather inconveniently timed epiphany that I had _no_ idea what to do next, that the room only extended so far before running into a wall, and that, as mentioned before, I had gained the troll's _undivided_ attention.

"Wow, I did _not_ think this through," I muttered to myself, thinking quickly. "Umm…hey look," I said enthusiastically in my best Jack Sparrow voice, "it's an _orc_! Orcs are freaking _awesome!_ Don't you want an orc? Go play with the orc!"

The cave troll, much to my surprise and extreme happiness, acted like a child and, I kid you not, grinned stupidly, "clapped" its hands together, and bounded off to get the orc I'd pointed at.

Sadly, it came back two seconds later holding the orc.

"It's like a puppy," I said incredulously. "A really, really big, stupid puppy." I cocked my head to the side.

I wonder.

"If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands," I said, clapping exaggeratedly so that it would get the point. Just as I'd hoped, the cave troll clapped…still holding the orc.

Or, now, what was left of one. I smiled brightly, letting the troll know I approved. "Rose is a freaking genius," I cooed as though to a small child. "Yes she is. Yes she is!"

We repeated the game several more times, and there was a pile o' orc in the corner before someone noticed.

"Rose, are you _playing_ with the troll," Boromir asked incredulously. "It's not a puppy."

"She's just happy she found someone on her level of intelligence," Gandalf snorted.

I glared at him and pointed. "Look! A _wizard!_ Don't you want a _wizard? _Go get the wizard, Lenny!"

"_Lenny_? You _named _it?" Frodo asked. "That thing tried to kill me!"

"But Lenny didn't mean to," I whined defensively, "the orcs made him."

Aragorn caught my eye and gave me a fatherly my-child-is-retarded look. "Rose, you cannot _keep _the troll."

"Fine fine fine," I grumbled. "But he stays for a while longer. Trust me on this."

Frodo glanced at Aragorn, then did a double-take when Aragorn nodded. "You aren't _seriously_ considering letting her take this thing with us, are you?"

I rolled my eyes and sighed before trotting to the door. "For the last time, what is the rule I've been trying to beat into your skulls? Listen to the Seer. Is that so hard? Apparently so, since y'all never do it." I sent them a nasty glare, but paused as orcs could be heard again. "Now follow me, flunkies o' mine, to the Bridge of Khazad-dûm!"

I didn't even wait for them to follow, knowing that they would. Instead, I walked into the darkness surrounding the tomb room.

Within seconds, we were surrounded by the rest of the Fellowship. And a few seconds after that, we were surrounded by every orc in the known and fictional universe.

The men bravely brandished their swords and Lenny, dear dear Lenny, charged into the fray. Well, not "charged" exactly. More like "leisurely meandered". I watched, my jaw on the floor, as he not only was allowed to pass, stomping on every orc who happened to get under his feet, but the orcs didn't pay attention to him at all.

"Okay," I said slowly, "that's a little wonky, but whatever."

I whipped my head up as I heard a roar in the distance so loud and deep that its reverberations rumbled through every molecule of my body, and the hall was filled with the orange light of a long burning flame.

Instantly, the orcs started to scramble and run.

"What is this new devilry," Boromir's deep voice rumbled from behind me.

"It's a Balrog, now let's _go_," I shouted, running. I turned back around when I realized no one was following. "_Come_, damn you! This demon is beyond the skills of all but one of you. We must _run_."

Finally, _finally_, they listened to me and fled through the doorway to the stairs beyond. Boromir almost went down the wrong stairs but Legolas caught him before he could fall into the fires below. My fear of heights was realized anew. There were no railings here, and the stairs were broken in places, with segments missing. It was my worst nightmare, and it was all I could do not to sit down on the stairs right there, wrap my arms around myself, and close my eyes until it all went away.

But I didn't. There were more important things than my fear. The Ring, and Frodo. We continued on until we reached the gap in the stairs. Legolas leapt across first, graceful as a cat, then beckoned to Gandalf.

Now, I think Gandalf must have cheated a little here and used magic, because I've personally seen the man jump, and, well, let's just say that Mr. Chicken Legs can't jump.

From their perch, orcs began to rain arrows down on us. Legolas shot back, nailing one in the forehead.

Boromir grabbed Merry and Pippin and hurled himself and the hobbits to the other side. Aragorn tossed Sam to Boromir.

"Frodo next, then Gimli," I commanded, keeping a wary eye behind me where the Balrog was catching up. I didn't want to chance Frodo's not making it to the other side. I was a variable here, a wild card, and I didn't want to risk anything. "Hurry now." Aragorn nodded and tossed Frodo to the other side, where Legolas caught him. Aragorn bent to pick up Gimli, but paused when the dwarf held up his hands.

"No one tosses a dwarf," he said proudly, before leaping forward. He almost fell into the chasm, but Legolas caught him. "NOT THE BEARD," he bellowed.

Aragorn and I were the only ones on this side now, and I grabbed him from behind and yanked him back to where I was standing. A split second later, the steps began to crumble as I knew they would. He nodded his thanks to me.

A large section fell from above, crashing into the stair behind us, and trapping us on our section.

At this point, I admit it, I was shaking in terror. When the stair began to sway from side to side, I couldn't help the two tears of fear that leaked from my eyes. I pushed the fear aside.

"Lean forward," Aragorn commanded.

By our combined weight, we tilted the stair and went crashing into the other section, where we were caught by many arms.

We came to the bridge, which was perhaps even more dangerous and terrifying than the stairs had been.

"Over the bridge! Fly!" Gandalf commanded, gesturing over the bridge.

I admit that it took everything I had to make it across that bridge. I almost didn't. There were several times when I was sure I was going to fall. But I didn't. I made it across.

"YOU CANNOT PASS!" Gandalf bellowed, magic enforcing his voice. The demon stopped and fanned its wings, the flames reaching higher and higher. The wizard brought his sword and staff up, and I could see the shield he put up around himself. "I am the servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor…" he chanted, "the dark fire will not avail you, Flame of Udûn!"

The balrog brought his sword down, where Glamdring met it blow for blow. Magic flared and the balrog's sword shattered and fell into the chasm below.

"Go back to the Shadow," Gandalf hissed through gritted teeth. The balrog raised his whip and Gandalf summoned the last of his energy, willpower, and magic.

"YOU...SHALL NOT...PASS!" He brought his staff down on the bridge so hard and with so much magic surging that I could feel physically the reverberations from it.

The balrog surged forward and the bridge collapsed, sending the demon into the abiss.

And it was then I was faced with the hardest decision of my life until that point: do I let Gandalf live or die?

It's one thing to make that decision in the comfort of your own home, when you've never met the man, never become (albeit grudging) friends with him, never heard his stories or the sound of his voice.

It's another to stand there, knowing that you are condemning this man to death. Even when he does come back as Gandalf the White, it's not for long. He departs for the Undying Lands, because his time here wasn't finished until the war was over. I would be condemning an honest man to death.

You may call me weak; you may call me foolish and tender hearted. You may condemn me until the End Days for my actions. But I couldn't do it.

I couldn't just let him die.

Even if it meant risking my own life.

I ran back across the bridge.

I watched, almost in slow motion, as the whip came back up and wrapped around the wizard's leg, yanking it from beneath him and dragging him over the edge. I slid to a stop on my stomach, grabbing his forearms where he hung from the edge.

The wizard's wise grey eyes met mine and in that split second, I realized that he had known all along he was going to die. And I even realized, as his eyes softened, that he was slightly disappointed in me that I'd tried to change it. He looked passed me to the Fellowship.

"Fly you fools!"

He let go, and I lunged forward to grab his hands again, but I was too slow.

I lay there as time stood still for me. As if in slow motion, I saw the orcs' arrows start to rain down on us again, saw him fall farther and farther from me.

In that moment, I wished more than anything I had power, magic, to get vengeance. Isn't that the way these stories always went? Where the heroine got magic powers or immortality or something, _anything_ to help her?

But I was human, through and through.

It was all I would ever be.

I stood up and, oblivious to the arrows raining down around me, the Fellowship shouting for me to run, calmly walked across the bridge, up the stairs, and out into the fresh air and sunshine.

**Author's note:** Sorry about any typos or things I forgot to fix. I have so many painkillers and antibiotics and prescription meds going through my system right now that I'm actually light-headed and someone has to be with me when I stand or walk so that I don't pass out. So don't roast me on any typos in this chapter? ) feel sorry for the gimp-child. lol. that's me, by the way. )


	14. Over the river and through the woods

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing (sadly) and will never own anything (even sadder). I do, however, have chocolate ice cream and sweet iced tea, so that should tide me over until I can take over the world. (grins stupidly)

**Author's note: **wow, lot's of reviews! I appreciate them all so much! Y'all are all so nice (if a little scary at times), and you make it all worth it. I figured I would give you another chapter, since I had free time and had written it (and because I didn't want y'all to egg my house or anything). So, see? I updated. Don't hurt me?

**Chapter 14**

The first thing I felt was the warmth of the sun on my face, and the sharp sting of pain as my eyes adjusted to the light.

Gandalf was gone. I hadn't saved him. I hadn't even warned him of what was going to happen.

I felt numb, cold, the guilt of his death weighing down on my shoulders. I didn't know how to react, what to do. I stared at them. Every member of the Fellowship had lost a mentor and grandfather figure. All of them considered him family.

And, I realized with a broken heart, so did I.

For all the sarcasm and banter between us, it was just that, banter. Neither of us had any real animosity towards the other, and I had come to think of him as a friend, maybe even as a grandfather.

And I had let him die. His blood was on my hands. And even the knowledge that he would come back did nothing to assuage the pain.

"Legolas, get them up," Aragorn commanded. Legolas looked at him incredulously.

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake," Boromir pleaded.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs," Aragorn argued. "We must reach the woods of Lothlórien. Come, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up."

Slowly, the warriors got the hobbits on their feet, but my eyes were on Frodo. He turned when Aragorn called for him, and the pain in his eyes stole my breath.

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"It wasn't your fault."

I jumped slightly as the silence of the camp was broken by Boromir's deep voice beside me as he sat down. The sun had fallen a few hours before, and I had thought that I was the only one still awake as it was my turn to be on guard. It was just as well; I hadn't been able to sleep since Gandalf's…since we had left Moria.

"What wasn't my fault," I asked, though I knew full well what he was talking about.

"Gandalf's death. You tried to save him. You risked your life to save him," he said, looking at me in the moonlight. "There was nothing more you could have done."

For a moment, our eyes met. I looked away. "I'm not sure which hurts more: the fact that I didn't save him, or the fact that I tried at all."

"What do you mean," he asked, scooting closer so he could hear me. I looked up at him, our eyes connecting.

"I'm a Seer, Boromir. More, I'm THE Seer. I know the fate of each person here, and I know how it effects the outcome of the war. Gandalf's death was for a reason. It served a purpose, a very important purpose. I know this. I know it probably better than anyone else in this world." I paused and looked down. "Yet, when the time came for me to let events unfold as they are supposed to, I couldn't do it. I couldn't just let him die. Even knowing what would happen if he didn't die, what repercussions it would have, I couldn't just let him die. I tried to save him. It's for the best that I failed, but that weakness, the fact that I tried to prevent events from unfolding the way they should…" I trailed off, at a loss for words.

"You worry what else you might change because you couldn't let fate run its course," he finished for me. I nodded, turning my eyes to the ground in front of me.

"I'm seventeen, Boromir. Seventeen. In my world, I wouldn't even be out of my parents' house for another year. Yet I'm expected to know what to do with the knowledge of the future, how to handle that responsibility. Someone older, wiser, maybe could do this, but not me. Not a seventeen year old. I don't think I can do this."

There was a moment of silence. Then I felt Boromir's rough, calloused fingers cup my chin and turn my head to face him. When our eyes met, it was like his clear grey eyes could see straight to my soul.

"You were chosen for this, Rose. You, and no other. I have seen you pray. Do you think your God would put you here, in this position, if he didn't think you could handle it? And, Rose, don't doubt yourself so. You came here, to a world you didn't believe was real until a few months ago, and accepted the responsibility of someone far older than yourself. More, you've handled it well, better than someone far older. You've done impossible things. Do not hold yourself to such an impossible standard, especially when you are doing the best you can."

I was silent for a moment, then offered a smile. "Thank you, Boromir. I really needed to hear that."

"Any time, little one."

My eyes flew to his. _Little one?_ I decided not to question it. "You should probably get some sleep. Tomorrow we'll be entering Lothlorien."

His lips twitched. "Actually, I was going to say the same to you. Your watch was over an hour ago, yet you never woke me up."

I shrugged sheepishly, caught. "I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, so I figured I would take your shift."

He smiled. "Go to bed, Rose."

"Aye aye, Captain Crunch," I said, standing and rolling out my pallet. I laid it down next to him and slipped under the covers. "By the way, Boromir, I like you, so when I eventually take over the world, your death will be quick and painless."

He snorted, but didn't reply.

I laid there for a long while, my eyes closed, just listening to the sounds of my friends, –no my _family _– sleeping, and to the sounds of the night.

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I don't remember falling asleep, but the next thing I knew, Boromir was shaking me awake.

"No," I grumbled, rolling onto my stomach and burrowing further into the blankets, "I'm not getting up. All the sane people are asleep right now, and I for one consider myself sane."

Mental Rose's nose grew two feet with that whopper.

"Rose, we go through this every morning," Aragorn said tiredly.

"Then one more morning won't kill you now will it," I snapped, pulling the covers over my head.

I heard voices murmuring, and the next thing I knew, I was being picked up.

"Put me down! Put me down! Put me down!" I bellowed, unable to see through the blankets wrapped around me.

"I'm confused, Elessar," my captor (Legolas the Traitor, as I dubbed him) said, laughter making his voice shaky. "Was she not _just_ complaining that she wanted to sleep? And when we give her the option of sleeping, she complains still?"

I made a sound of warning deep in my throat. It was met by a moment of shocked silence.

"Did the lass just _growl_," Gimli asked incredulously.

"I think she did," Merry said.

"I didn't know humans could _make _that sound," Frodo added.

"I vote we see if we can get her to do it again." Pippin's suggestion was met by noises of agreement.

I flailed, but Legolas must be a secret body-builder, because he didn't even come close to dropping me. I tried again.

Nothing.

"I would like the record to state that I hate you all."

"No, you don't," Aragorn said confidently. "We know you by now. Not only do we know that you _don't _hate us, we know you're trying not to laugh."

I glared at him through the blanket. "All of you are traitors. All of you!"

"She says that a lot, doesn't she," Pippin said. Frodo grunted in agreement.

"I foresee _bad things_ in your futures! BAD BAD BAD things! Splinters! Rocks in your shoes! Bad hair! Worse breath!"

"Those things aren't really that bad," Boromir said.

"Aye. She's not really a Seer of Doom, if you think about it," Aragorn said. "More like a Seer of the Slightly Annoying but Not Really That Bad Things."

"Y'all are enjoying this, aren't you," I asked glumly.

"Immensely," Boromir assured me.

"I loathe the very fact y'all _breathe_," I informed them, crossing my arms as best I could, considering I was still wrapped in the cocoon-like blanket and was being held in Legolas' arms.

"Hmm…maybe it's because you're too high up," Legolas said mischievously.

I hate that tone; it never bodes well for me.

Where before I had been cradled in his arms, now I was hanging upside down, my head only a foot or so above the ground.

"Yeah," I said sarcastically through the sound of blood rushing to my head, "yeah, that's _much_ better."

"Legolas, that looks uncomfortable," came Gimli's voice, muffled through the blanket. I nearly told him he was my favorite, but he kept talking. "You should drop it and ease your burden."

I couldn't help my reaction: I shrieked and latched onto the elf's legs.

"So help me, Legolas, if you drop me it'll be the last thing you do on this good earth," I warned, tightening my vise-like grip around his legs.

"First she wanted down, now she threatens bodily harm if I set her down," the elf said, pretending to be surprised. "What, I wonder, shall I do."

"I have an idea," I said evilly.

"No," all nine men said simultaneously, before I could even state my plan.

I think they are beginning to learn how my mind works.

This could be potentially problematic in the future.

"Rose votes we put her down GENTLY and no one will get hurt," I yelled. "Or I will SOO throw up all over your legs, _Leggy_," I added evilly. He hated the nickname as much as I did, which was why I tended to use it whenever possible.

Apparently, my little threat served its purpose. Before I could utter another one (using a few more _creative_ nicknames), Legolas swung me up so I was cradled in his arms again, and then set me on my feet, all in one extremely smooth, extremely FAST movement.

You know how you get light headed when you stand up to fast? Okay, imagine going, at a quicker speed than that, from upside down to right side up.

Legolas may have set me on my feet, but I didn't stay there.

As soon as his supporting hands let go, I swayed slightly, then fell to my knees, looking at the spinning colors around my head.

"So _there's_ where all my blood went," I said stupidly. "Hehe, that's trippy, yo'."

Aragorn and Boromir, apparently a little worried, went over and grabbed my arms, hauling me to my feet. I nearly fell again, but they hadn't released their hold on me, so they caught me.

I looked over my shoulder at Legolas, frowning. "Oooooh, you broke the stupid kid. Mom is going to be so pissed at you," I informed him.

"Somehow," he said, his voice tinged with mirth, "this is worth it."

I glared at his three heads.

"Alright, I'm good," I said as the universe went back to normal. "You can let go now."

Aragorn let go, but Boromir was apparently not so sure. "Are you sure you are okay?"

"Yep," I said brightly. "I would do a dance or something to prove it to you, but I wouldn't do that to you. Many countries make prisoners of war watch me dance as a form of torture."

"Somehow, I doubt that anyone could be that bad," Boromir said.

"You've never seen me dance," I shot back before shrugging off his hands. Immediately, I felt the lack of warmth as his hands fell away. "So where's breakfast," I said, rubbing my hands together.

After breakfast, we went about packing up the camp. After I'd rolled up my pallet, I grabbed my "dress" and went off a little ways by myself. I really only changed clothes whenever I needed to, since I had only brought the two outfits, wanting to keep clean but pack light. In this case, I was going to meet Galadriel, and my mother had taught me that when you were going to meet someone, you should be clean as you can.

In this case, it included taking a _very_ quick "bath" in the (icy) stream, scrubbing my face until it was pink, running a comb through my hair, and changing into the dress.

I suppose I should be fair about the dress. It didn't really count as a dress. In reality, it was a top with two long side panels sewn to the bottom to give the illusion of a skirt. It was sewn that way so that the lady could sit astride a horse without looking indecent or, in my case, walk without tripping over the hem. There were black leggings that went with it, so that I wasn't actually all that uncomfortable. The Elvin tailors had actually done a really good job.

That doesn't mean that I am not going to complain, it just means that I'm not going to complain _as much_.

Anyway, the end result was that, though certainly not up to my usual standards of cleanliness, I was a far sight cleaner and more presentable than what I had been.

I smelled better, too. That Elvin soap is some good stuff. The scent reminded me vaguely of honeysuckle, which sent a deep longing for home through me. They say that scent is the strongest trigger for memories. I don't know if that's true, but it certainly brought memories back for me, and I walked back to the camp with a smile and a lighter heart.

"We ready to go," I asked, shouldering my pack.

Aragorn nodded. "We should reach the woods of Lothlorien by nightfall, if we keep good pace. There we should find haven."

"Yay, more walking," I said morosely, pretending to wave a small flag in the air.

"It could be worse," Gimli said as he walked by me.

"How," I asked, wary.

He tossed an evil grin over his shoulder. "They could carry you."

"Oooooh," I breathed. "For that, I'm going to be annoying the _ENTIRE WAY_!"

"So nothing out of the ordinary then," Sam said.

I halted mid-stride and looked at him in shock. Sam? My sweet little Sam? "Was that a _retort_?" I looked up at Boromir in horror. "Did Sam just back talk me? What happened to my sweet cuddly little Sam?" I glared at Legolas, poking him in the chest with my finger. "You corrupted him, didn't you? He used to be sweet. He used to be my favorite. Now he," I waved my hands around for added dramatic effect, "he can be _sarcastic!_"

"Oh, he could be sarcastic before," Frodo assured me as we continued walking. "You've just never been around when he's drunk."

My eyebrows shot up and I looked at Sam in a new light. "Well," I murmured, feeling the urge to narrow my eyes and rub my chin broodingly as ideas whirled in my head like a hurricane, "we shall just have to rectify that, won't we?"

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You can always tell if elves have spent time somewhere because the air is cleaner, the light is brighter, the trees and plants seem greener and more colorful, and even the animals seem more virile. It's not like the animals frolic and soft music plays on the wind, and it's a perfect world, or anything. I guess that elves are just so _untainted_ that their purity "cleans" everything around them, making the world around them pure, too.

I could tell almost immediately that we had crossed the borders into Lothlorien. The change in the trees and wildlife was subtle, imperceptible to someone who didn't know what to look for. But I had spent months among the elves, and could sense the delicate change.

The minute Aragorn decided we would spend the night in the trees, Legolas was up the tree –

"_Daro_!"

– and then Legolas was back down the tree.

I ducked my chin to hide my smirk.

"Stand still!" he ordered. "Do not move or speak."

I lifted my chin, unable to keep a devious smile from my face. "_Mae govannen,"_ I raised my eyes to where I saw him perched above us, "_Haldir o Lorien_."** (Well met, Haldir of Lorien)**

The elf dropped from the branch and landed about a foot in front me, his eyes wary as they regarded me. "_Mae govannen_," he replied. "_Iston le?_" (**Do I know you?**)

"No," I said, keeping the smile on my face and letting my full southern accent come out (it usually helps with first impressions), "you don't know me. And we just used all the elvish I know." My smile sobered. "You know who we are, if I am not much mistaken. Lord Elrond sent word ahead to Lady Galadriel that we were to arrive."

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "And how would a mortal know of the affairs of elf nobility?"

I met him stare for stare. "Because I am a Seer. More, I am THE Seer. I know the fate of every man in this Fellowship, of Middle Earth, of those Elven nobility you speak of, and yes, Marchwarden, even of _you_."

Mental Rose, ever the one to point out my stupid moments (and believe me, they are many) slapped me upside the head and asked me what the hell I thought I was doing? We want him to _like _us, not want to kill us!

I wanted to tell Mental Rose that I was gonna stick her attitude problem so far up her derriere that she wouldn't be able to sit straight, but I didn't think that was a great idea.

Mental Rose is kind of mean. I freely admit to being a little scared of her. Is that weird?

Anyway, I was now wishing I could erase that entire conversation and start over, but no, sadly, this is what actually happened. I introduced myself to the Marchwarden by insulting him and telling him I knew exactly when he was going to die.

And they wonder why I say politics is a bad career choice for me.

Calmly, just having put the "ass" (not to mention the "dumb") in "dumbasss", I turned to Legolas. "Why have y'all not shut me up? Does the thought of me talking seem like a particularly _good_ idea to you?" I turned back to Haldir, my cheeks flaming. "I'm sorry. My name is Rose, and I'm an idiot and completely messed this up because I felt threatened. I am going to stop talking now. I would have stopped talking _before _I made a fool of myself, but no one saw fit to shut me up. I'll let you and Aragorn talk."

Mental Rose normally would have said something here, but I think that this was beyond even _her_ ability to insult me. She turned to me, slightly bewildered and not knowing what to say, and said hesitantly, "You know, maybe life isn't for everyone."

I would have to agree.

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Stairs.

_Oh my Lord_ at the stairs.

It's like that movie, I think it was The Shining, where the hallway keeps going and going and going and going and going and going like the energizer bunny and you can never reach the end but you have to try anyway because that's how the movie goes.

But this was fifty _billion_ times worse, because this was the stair version! And you're sitting (or climbing, in this case) there thinking, "hey, here's a novel idea: elevators!"

But no! Because that would be convenient! And we couldn't have _that,_ now, could we?

Just in case the mortals aren't _completely aware_ thatwe are better and loftier and in all ways more awesome than they are, let's make it _literal._

You would think that, considering all the wisdom elves must accumulate over the long span of their lives, one of them might have turned to the others and said "you know, maybe building the _ENTIRE CITY_ in the treetops might be a _bad_ idea."

But apparently not.

Eventually, after stopping for a breather (at the top of _Mount_ _Everest_ so I didn't _pop a lung_)before continuing on for the second half, we reached the top (they either ran out of tree or passed out from the altitude, or they would have built it _higher_).

At this point, I didn't really have to worry about saying something stupid in front of Lady Galadriel. I was pretty much guaranteed not to say anything. I was too busy trying to reinflate my lungs.

As we stood there on the platform waiting (or wheezing, in my case), the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien graced us with their presence.

They were magnificent, almost glowing, and in all ways more beautiful than anything I'd ever seen, except for Arwen. And it was true, you could see the stars in her eyes. It was like you could see the entire universe. Looking at them was almost painful, yet I couldn't tear my eyes away.

"The Enemy knows you have entered here," Celeborn stated, his voice authoritative, like he was used to being obeyed without question. "What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Eight there are here, yet nine there were, set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him...I can no longer see him from afar."

"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land," Galadriel said, her voice deeper than a woman's is normally, but still strangely feminine. "He has fallen into shadow."

"He was taken by both Shadow and Flame: a Balrog of Morgoth," Legolas said bitterly, "for we went needlessly into the net of Moria.'

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life," Galadriel reprimanded him gently. She turned her eyes to Gimli, who was looking down in sadness, and her eyes softened slightly. "Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart, Gimli, son of Glóin, for the world has grown full of peril. And in all lands, love is now mingled with grief." At the last word, she turned her gaze to Boromir, who looked like he was going to cry.

Because we were in the back, I knew no one could see, so I gave in to the urge and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently in support. He squeezed back before releasing it.

"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost," Celeborn said.

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the company is true," she said, smiling at Sam, before scanning the rest of us. "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace."

For a moment, I thought she was going to turn and leave, but our eyes connected and I knew I would be seeing her again soon. _Very _soon, if I wasn't mistaken.

I just hoped it wouldn't go as badly as I suspected it would.


	15. In which good things happen

**Disclaimer: **Maybe if I developed a time machine, I could go back in time and steal the idea from J.R.R. Tolkien. However, that requires that I be intelligent enough to develop a time machine, which is potentially problematic. Then again, if I had a time machine, I would just go back to Middle Earth. Hmmm… next on my To Do List, Google "how to build a time machine"….

**Author's Note:** Well, y'all are going to _love_ this chapter, and _hate_ me at the end. You'll see why. (smiles evilly)

**Chapter 15: In which good things happen**

The good thing about coming to civilization after so long questing solely with men is that you get taken to the _womens'_ baths.

As in, no men.

Which meant, in a word, _privacy._

As soon as we were shown where we were going to sleep at the base of a large mellorn tree (which sounds like a camp, but it was basically as the movies had portrayed it: spacious and comfortable and essentially a house without walls or a roof. It was nice), I located the nearest female elf.

Actually, I practically stalked her, then pounced on her like a panther, almost assaulting her in my desire to find the womens baths.

Once I'd pumped her for information, I literally ran all the (considerable) way to the bathing pool.

And, let me tell you, it was totally worth it.

In Lothlorien, I guess the elves got tired of building all those stairs, so all the "rooms" and "buildings" on the ground were separated by natural barriers, like hedges, as opposed to walls. In the rare places where a natural barrier wasn't or couldn't be grown, the elves tended to string long curtains or something. In reality, it was actually quite private.

Which was all I needed.

"I see steam," I said, awed as I took in the sight of the bathing pool, my mouth open slightly with a stupid grin.

Normally, I would have belly-flopped a la Rivendell.

But after so long without an honest to God bath, there was no way I was going to risk wasting even one _drop_ of that beautifully steaming water.

After the fastest strip in history, I touched my big toe to the water.

It was so hot it I got burned.

I sighed in pleasure.

And then slid in completely.

Did I mention the heat? 'Cause, for the first time in I don't even want to think how long, I was actually warm.

This was as close to a religious moment as I had ever come.

All my muscles went liquid, and even my eyelids slid half closed.

An elleth tried to start conversation, but I merely (albeit rudely) held up my hand. "Less talky-talky. More relaxy."

Affronted, she went off in a huff.

Let me ask you something: do you think I cared?

Not even a little.

After letting the steaming water warm me from the outside in, I scrubbed myself until I got every single iota of blood, sweat, dirt, and death off of me.

And then I relaxed some more.

I planned to drag that bath out as long as physically possible. So sue me.

After about 45 minutes (it was a _really_ good soak), completely clean, relaxed, and smelling like roses, I managed to drug up the force of will to climb out of the pool. A waiting elleth server pointed me to the changing rooms.

I walked in and my jaw hit the floor. This wasn't a stall like in Rivendell, this was a _room,_ complete with a wardrobe, full length mirror, vanity, and sink. There was even a fainting couch there.

I am officially _impressed_.

After drying off, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. This was my first look at myself in a month.

My hair, after a month in the outdoors 24 hours a day, had been bleached a sort of dirty blond (as far as I could tell, since my hair was still dripping wet) by the sun. And after so long walking all day, every day, and skipping meals from sheer exhaustion, I had lost weight like all the Fellowship had, though I was still on the plump side (damn it). My eyes had dark bruises under them from physical and mental exhaustion, not to mention a noted lack of sleep, and eyes looked more tired and careworn than before.

It was me, but those subtle changes made me different.

I wasn't sure what I thought.

Shrugging, I simply went to the wardrobe and looked through it.

And then looked through it again.

"Oh you must be kidding me," I snapped. "A solid month trekking through the wilderness solely with men, Moria, facing down an orc army and then a _Balrog_, and they can't even give me leggings? Elrond's arm has grown long indeed if he thinks he can rid me of leggings here," I muttered under my breath. At this point, I was half-in half-out of the wardrobe, hunting through every nook and cranny.

After fifteen minutes of searching and nothing to show for it, I finally gave up.

What is _with_ the women in Middle Earth and their apparent _phobia_ of leggings?

Are they afraid that leggings will jump up and _bite them_ or something?

"Fine," I spat at the wardrobe as I yanked out a light blue dress, "I'll wear a dress. But I'm not gonna _like it_."

I think the wardrobe could have cared less.

I glared at it for a good measure anyway.

After managing to work the tangles out of my hair, I tossed my towel into the hamper and trotted (cursing my skirts the entire way) back to where the Fellowship was camped.

That proved to be slightly problematic.

As noted before, my sense of direction is non-existent. This is made even more of a problem when walking through the Forbidden Forest. Especially if you weren't paying attention on your sprint to the bathing houses.

See my problem?

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I glared at the leaf stuffed in the humungous statue's mouth. There was no way it could have occurred naturally, because it was packed in there tighter than the seats in coach class. I should know.

I had packed it in there half an hour before, which was the _last _time I'd come across this statue. But dusk had begun to fall, and I needed to find my way back soon.

I tapped my chin broodingly. "Maybe the paths change like the staircases in Hogwarts," I murmured quietly to myself, thinking out loud.

"Rose?"

I looked up, hearing my name. "Over here," I called. "Marco?" I muttered sarcastically, though I knew whoever it was wasn't going to know to call out 'Polo'.

Boromir came around the side of the monstrous statue. He looked around unable to find me until I snapped to get his attention.

"What are you doing up there," he asked in surprise. The statue really was huge, and I had climbed up to the head in order to find a place I could stuff the leaf. I had thought of another, lower place that I could stuff it, but I didn't think anyone else would find it as funny as I did.

"Climbing to the Crow's Nest so I can keep a look out for land," I said sarcastically as I carefully made my way down. I jumped the last few feet and landed in front of him. "I was marking the statue so I would know if I had passed it before."

"And had you," he asked, bemused.

"Five times." I shrugged. "Anyway, you're here now, so you can lead us back to the camp."

He grinned down at me. "Indeed, I had come to find you. I had figured you had gotten lost."

I grinned. "What are you trying to say about my sense of direction," I asked, feigning anger.

He looked down at me with an are-you-serious lift of his eyebrow. "That it doesn't exist, though how that is possible is beyond me."

I grinned. "I've learned that anything is possible, regardless if you put your mind to it or not."

"Why do you say that," he asked as we started to walk.

I blinked in surprise, then looked at him incredulously. "You're talking to a woman, who has not only traveled back through time, but has been dubbed a Seer, has met dwarves, hobbits, elves, wizards, orcs, and demons, traveled with nine men for an entire month in order to destroy a ring possessed by an evil overlord, and, most incredibly," I gestured for him to lean in, "I turned 18."

He looked surprised. "Truly? When was your birthday?"

"See, we left on Christmas day and, if we arrived on time like I think we did, then today is January 17 on our calendar," I said. "I was born yesterday. Or, I _will_ be born," I frowned. "Regardless, I am now 18."

"Happy belated birthday," he said with a smile. "Why did you say nothing about it yesterday?"

"It wasn't really a good time," I pointed out. Spotting something out of the corner of my eye, I halted and turned to look at it. Leaving the path for a better look, I peered through the thinned branches.

Waving for him to stay where he was, I slid easily through the small gap and found myself in a small haven. There was a small lake, fed by the miniature waterfall cascading down to it, and the entire place was green and gold in the fading sunlight, surrounded on all sides by trees and bushes thick and tall enough to afford complete privacy to whoever was in the small enclosure.

Smiling, I turned back around to get Boromir, but he must have come up behind me when I was investigating, because I ran smack into his chest. I stepped back and beamed up at him.

"Can you believe this place," I asked with a grin, keeping my voice quiet. Something about the setting made me want to keep my voice low, as though not to disturb the peace of the sunset.

Grabbing his hand, I pulled him farther into the enclosure. Overhead, the elves were singing and their voices floated over the air, filling the woods with a beautiful, if bittersweet, lament to Gandalf. Releasing him, I walked over to the lake and knelt in a sunny spot, where the ground was still warm from the sun.

I heard Boromir come up behind me and looked back to say something, but something in his eyes stopped me.

He was looking at me so intently, that I actually looked around to see if he had spotted something else. Seeing nothing, I stood and looked up at him with a questioning smile.

There were less than five inches between us, he was standing so close. Not that I was complaining in the least.

Especially since this seemed to be going where I hoped it was going.

After a long moment of him staring at me but doing nothing, I decided enough was enough.

If he was too gentlemanly to make the first move, then I was going to have to do it for him.

"You know," I said after a moment, smiling and putting my hand on my hip, "where I come from, when a man wants to kiss his girl, he generally makes a move." His eyes widened and he tried to speak, opening and closing his mouth several times, but nothing came out. I smiled wider. "And when he is too gentlemanly, well, the girl just has to do it for him."

Stepping closer, I braced myself on his chest and stood on my tiptoes (cause I'm so freaking short) and kissed him.

Now, all I did was rub lips a little, because I certainly didn't want to scare the poor man, but enough was enough!

After a moment of him doing nothing, I pulled back a little, worried that maybe I'd misread him.

Turns out I had nothing to worry about, because he grinned, reached up, cupped my head in his hands, and finally, _finally_ kissed me.

And, wow! Could that boy kiss.

This wasn't an awkward, both-of-us-are-unsure-cause-this-is-our-first kiss kind of thing.

Boromir doesn't _do_ awkward or unsure.

Ever.

This was a deep-sighing, leg-popping (to steal a term from Princess Diaries), toe-curling, come-away-in-a-daze kind of kiss.

As evidenced by the fact that I did all of the above…

Boromir was an alpha-male, which means he was a take-charge kind of guy, and so were his kisses. I may have started it, but _he_ was going to finish it.

After a long moment (it was a _really_ good kiss, but I certainly wasn't going to start making out with him after one kiss), I pulled back slightly, smiling and breathless, not to mention slightly light-headed and dazed.

Boromir was practically radiating masculine satisfaction, obviously very pleased with himself as he watched my try to collect myself.

Admittedly, he had every reason to be.

I came down from my tiptoes, still smiling widely, and stepped back.

Suddenly, I felt shy, and, smiling, looked away. He simply tilted my chin up so he could meet my eyes, and smiled.

Sadly, I noticed that it was starting to get _really_ late.

"Boromir, we should be heading back. It's starting to get _really _late, and the others will wonder where we are," I said, resisting the urge to sigh with regret.

"You're right," he agreed, though Lord knows neither of us wanted to leave.

"Alright," I sighed, "lead on. But, Boromir," I said, pulling him to a stop as he turned away. I waited until he turned back to look at me. "Let's remember the way here," I finished with a smile.

**Author's Note:** I do believe that, in ending the chapter here, I gain the title of Most Evil Authoress.

Yay me!


	16. Galadriel and manners

**Discaimer:** I don't own Lord of the Rings…or a chocolate chip cookie. (sniff) I think the last part is the saddest.

**Chapter 16**

Boromir held the brush aside for me as I slipped through the hole. I couldn't stop smiling.

"So, where exactly does this put us," I asked. He idly picked a leaf out of my hair and tucked my hair behind my ear before answering.

"Well, we are not that far from the camp. We simply take two right turns and then a left, and then follow the path straight to the camp."

I stopped and blinked at him. "Um…not _exactly_ where I was going with this, but thanks for the information. I was talking about where we are in regards to what we just did."

"Oh," he said as realization dawned. We started walking again, this time holding hands. That in itself was weird for me, because I had never done anything so, well, calmly affectionate. "Well, normally, I would ask your father's permission to court you…"he trailed off.

"But that's going to be slightly problematic," I finished for him. I grinned. "Don't worry about that. I have never needed my father's permission in regards to dating."

"Still though," he frowned, "I feel as though I should ask someone for permission."

"I'm not sure if I like the fact that you Gondorian men are so honorable, or if it's going to drive me crazy," I mused. "Boromir, I have never been subservient to anyone, and I have never had to ask a man or woman other than my boss for permission to do anything." I looked at him seriously. "There is no one in this world with the power to decide for me." He still looked unsure, and I gave in. "But, if I truly had to pick a guardian, I suppose I would pick Aragorn."

"Then I shall ask him."

"Let me speak with him first," I said, "and bear in mind that I will do as I see fit, regardless of what he says. He is the leader of my quest, not my life."

He nodded. "You are different than other women in that regard. Far more independent." He sighed. "How am I going to break this news to my father that I am courting a Seer from the future?"

I squeezed his hand. "We will cross that bridge when we come to it," I said. "In regards to that and to the future of the quest, I still have many decisions to make. For now, let's keep this between us and not tell the others." I paused, then sighed. "With the exception of Aragorn," I allowed.

He nodded after a moment. "I am sure you have your reasons."

I looked at him, pulling him to a stop. I cupped his face with one hand. "Boromir, I am not in _any_ way ashamed of this." I smiled. "Most of me wants to shout it to the world, and the other can't believe that this is anything more than a wonderful dream. But in this quest, even the slightest change could have drastic consequences, and I don't want to risk losing this war because I couldn't keep a secret."

He frowned. "Surely it couldn't have such drastic consequences."

"Boromir, people, as I am sure you know, are weird. Many times, they don't even know why they do the things they do. But in the case of this quest, I _do_ understand why they act a certain way." I sighed. "It's hard to explain. Maybe you will understand what I mean when this is all over."

_If both of us are still alive_, I thought. The Iluvatar had assigned me the task of keeping him alive, but there was no one to do the same for me.

Now I just had to think of a way to keep him alive without disrupting any other events.

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Merry, Pippin, and Gimli were still out and about when we arrived, but the rest of the guys were there, sitting at a large table piled high with food.

To my extreme surprise, they actually stood when we entered.

I grinned and raised my eyebrows as I took the seat Boromir held out for me. I thanked him as he and the rest of them took their seats.

"May I ask why we are suddenly on our best behavior," I asked as I grabbed a roll.

"You are a lady," Aragorn pointed out, "and while our manners may slip while in the wilderness, we were raised to treat women with respect."

I took a sip of water before carefully setting down my goblet. "Does this mean that I've gotta be wary of my own manners from now on? 'Cause, I gotta admit, we are not so strict about such things where I come from, and I've got no clue what to do," I said slowly, choosing my words with care. "I've actually never seen the men in a room stand when a woman enters or leaves before now."

"It might be time you learned, Rose, if you are going to be living in here," Legolas said, pouring himself a drink. "After the quest is over, you will travel in high circles, and will be expected to behave accordingly."

"I know," I sighed, "but it's just extremely weird to have a guy pull out my chair for me. Generally, it's unusual to find a guy who will open the door for a woman, let alone stand when she does and treat her like royalty." I grimaced slightly. "It's not a bad thing, I suppose, just one that is going to take some getting used to." I looked up, my eyes wide as saucers as a truly horrifying thought occurred to me. My eyes shot to Aragorn. "I won't be expected to dance, will I? 'Cause I flat out _refuse_."

He grinned. "Aye, and curtsey, play some sort of instrument, read, write, sew –"

— "walk in a dress without tripping," Sam interjected with a grin—

— "read and write poetry, Sindarin, and Numenorian," Frodo added–

-- "and observe all the rules of etiquette," Legolas finished, an evil grin plastered on his face.

I stared at my food for a long moment. "What if," I said hopefully, looking up at Aragorn and giving him my best puppy dog eyes, "I became a hermit who lived all alone somewhere."

Aragorn took a bite of his bread before answering. "Then," he said with an evil and thoroughly pleased-with-himself grin, "you would have to learn to farm, hunt, and make your own clothing and shoes, not to mention cook."

I eyed the roll in my hand and mentally weighed the benefits of throwing it at his head.

"Nah, the roll is better than the satisfaction," I muttered, earning a questioning look from Sam. Raising my voice, I addressed the table at large, and, not at _ALL_ grudgingly, mind you, said, "Alright, but y'all are gonna have to teach me."

"That is no problem," Legolas said, "but we do not have to start right away, if you like. Just a few instructions here and there."

I could have kissed him, but opted against it; it would have been like kissing my brother. "I like that idea. Let's do _that_," I said enthusiastically.

"Alright," Frodo said, his eyes alight with mischief, "then sit up straight, speak in a soft voice, and no more sarcastic remarks."

"Excuse me," I asked, my voice higher than usual out of startled hysteria. "Sit straight? What's wrong with my voice?" My eyes went a little wild around the edges. "You can't take away my sarcasm!"

"Er… Mr. Frodo, I think you might have scared her," Sam said worriedly.

I cleared my throat calmly. "Oh, I'm not scared. Don't worry. I just think that the best idea might be if we postpone lessons….indefinitely."

"You have to learn sometime," Boromir pointed out.

"And eventually I will. But not right now," I said. "Right now I am busy…" I racked my mind for something, "with stuff," I finished lamely.

Hook.

"Really," Aragorn said dryly, "what sort of stuff?"

I looked at him with a warning smile, tilting my head to the side. "Oh, you know. Seer stuff." I waved my hand to vaguely encompass the all important _stuff._ "I have to go…um… meditate and think," I said, narrowing my eyes slightly.

Line.

"Think about what –"

"About how I'm going to castrate you in your sleep using a grapefruit knife and lemon juice," I retorted, waving the butter knife menacingly before he even finished the question. "Do you really want to finish this, Aragorn, because you just gave me a lot of sugar and caffeine," I said, pointing to the tea. "I can go _all. Night. Long._"

And sinker.

I picked up the gravy boat and offered it to him with a cheerful smile. "Hey, Aragorn, you want some gravy for that _ROAST_ I just gave you?"

Legolas, Boromir, Frodo, and Sam had to smother their laughter.

Aragorn was about to rise to the challenge when we were interrupted by an elf.

"My Lords and Lady," he said with a bow. "My Lady Galadriel requests an audience with the Lady Rose."

Everyone glanced at me.

Mentally I sighed, but stood nonetheless.

"If you will excuse me, Gentlemen," I said as they also stood. Leaving the table, I followed the elf out.

My legs were still protesting the long climb from before, so I was immensely relieved when the elf led me away from the direction of Galadriel and Celeborn's talon, and instead brought me to a secluded garden, the entrance a gated archway.

I nodded to the elf in thanks as he bowed and retreated. Standing before the gate, I took a deep, calming breath, feeling like I was about to stand before a jury and await my sentence.

I pushed open the gate and walked inside.

Game time.

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Galadriel was standing in the center, facing me, her head bent down to look into the small stream that ran through the garden. She didn't acknowledge my presence, but her eyes flickered up as I walked closer, then back down into the water.

I curtseyed...um…sort of.

"You summoned," I said. After a long moment, she looked up again.

"Look into the stream, Rose," she bid, speaking in that slow, measured way of hers that lent her voice power. I looked down, half expecting to see my future, like Frodo and Sam had.

I could see small creatures in the water, but none I recognized. They must be unique to Middle Earth, or maybe just to this stream. I looked up, meeting her eyes.

"They seem so small as they go about their daily lives, never realizing that I, one person, can destroy their entire world with one small act," she said, seeming to muse out loud.

"Is this an analogy," I asked warily. I was pretty sure where she was going with this, and it was nothing I hadn't thought of before. "I'm not very good at those. My Lit teacher could never get me to understand."

She ignored me and straightened, looking me dead in the eye. "I see your mind," she said after a moment. "You have thought of this before, yet there are still problems, puzzles in your mind to be solved."

I met her gaze squarely, guessing what she was talking about. "Yes," I said, "I admit I have not figured everything out."

"In your mind, I can see his death." She stood up and walked around the garden idly. "He will try to take the Ring, but you plan to prevent it." She paused, and her eyes shot to me, piercing me. "Why?"

"His death was a way to atone for his crime, the only way to gain back his honor. If I prevent him from trying to claim the Ring, then it shall alleviate his burden."

"His death directly impacts Denethor's. How do you plan to counter that," she asked.

"You are right," I said, turning away to meander through the garden. "Many of Denethor and Faramir's actions are a direct result of the knowledge of his death. But I have been commanded by the Iluvatar himself to prevent Boromir's death." I glanced over my shoulder at her. "I shall do what I can to keep history from being altered. I plan to throw the Horn of Gondor into the river, as evidence of his death."

"And then," she asked.

"I shall privately send word, likely in your name if I have your leave, ahead from Lorien before we depart that Boromir was slain as he was going to be. And then, I keep Boromir from sending word to his father or going to Gondor."

"A tangled web of lies," she said. "If you get caught, you will likely never gain his trust again."

"It must be done, for I see no alternative. I consider it a small price to pay for his life."

She nodded. "And what of the Ringbearer?"

"Sam and Frodo shall depart for Mordor. I suppose that I must simply tell Frodo that he is to depart." I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. "A little help from you would go a long way towards convincing him to leave."

She regarded me for a long moment before nodding. "There is more to you than meets the eye. Tell me, why do you hide behind a mask of frivolity?"

"I like to make people laugh," I shrugged. "And life, for a mortal at least, is too short to be serious all the time. If people cannot handle me at my worst, then they do not deserve to see me at my best. Besides, when people underestimate me, they are all the more surprised when my more serious side comes to the fore."

She looked at me, her eyes speculative. "I'm not sure if that is wisdom or folly."

"I get that a lot."

She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Have you considered going with Frodo and Samwise?"

I hesitated. "Yes," I said slowly. "I cannot feel the call of the Ring, perhaps for the same reason that Tom Bombadil didn't, because I lived in a time where there was no Ring. But I do not trust my immunity to last, and I am not willing to risk it."

She nodded, but her lips twitched slightly. "There is another reason, as well," she said slyly.

I couldn't help but smile slightly in return. "Yes, I wish to stay with Boromir."

She just waited.

"And…I hate spiders," I admitted sheepishly after a moment. "Can't work 'em. Never could." I shuddered with my entire body at the thought. "Regardless, I would be more of a hindrance than help to Frodo and Sam, and how am I supposed to make sure Boromir stays alive if I'm with them?"

"Very true," she said, smiling.

"I'm making excuses, aren't I," I sighed.

"You know, it is understandable if you choose not to go, simply because you do not _wish_ to," Galadriel said, her eyes perceptive and understanding. "Sometimes, that is the wisest course."

"You're probably right, as usual," I said grumpily. "I just feel like I'm copping out, you know?"

She looked momentarily confused by my slang, but understood the gist of what I meant.

"My Lady," I said tentatively, wanting to change the subject, "I have a question."

She nodded her assent.

"Do you have any advice for me, about being a seer," I asked. She smiled, her eyes softening.

After a moment, she answered. "There are two things you must remember. First, not everything is set in stone. Even the smallest action, the smallest word, may change the course of the future. Second, and this is most important," she said, pinning me with her eyes, "knowing what will happen does not make it your responsibility. Even if lives are lost, it is not your fault. Some things are destined to be, some lives meant to be lost."

I nodded slowly, still slightly unsure, but willing to accept that what she said was the truth.

"Now," she said, her tone closing the subject, "it is time for both of us to return to our duties."

I curtsied again, recognizing a dismissal when I heard one. "My Lady," I murmured before exiting.

"Two lefts and a right," Galadriel called after me. I had _no_ idea what she was talking about.

Half an hour later, now successfully lost, it clicked.

"_Riiiiiiiight_," I said, the epiphany dawning on me as I plopped myself down on the forest floor, "I _get it_ now."

Since I knew I was safe in Lothlorien, and I was _completely_ aware that there was no way I would find my way back to camp (I have no night vision and in a forest at night, that's kind of necessary), I just lay down and sprawled, content to sleep right there. I'm a teenager, and can fall asleep anywhere within minutes.

"Better not be any bugs," I muttered as I closed my eyes. "I don't like bugs."

**Author's Note: **Wow! Over 100 reviews on this story, and now I'm working on the 17th chapter! I never thought I would get this far, and I really do owe it all to you guys, my reviewers. Without your comments, suggestions, and enthusiasm for the story, I would never have gotten past Moria, where I had _serious_ writer's block. I would have just given up. So thank you _so so so so so so so so_ much, from the bottom of my heart. I really appreciate it. (grin)


	17. Drowning

Author's Note: I'm sorry, I'm sorry

**Author's Note: I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Chill! I've just graduated. I'll have time to write more now! Stop throwing shoes at me!**

Chapter 17

We stayed for a month in Lothlorien before we decided to leave. There wasn't a meeting or anything like that; it seemed like there was just an unspoken consensus that it was time for the second leg of our journey. Grief could only hold onto you for so long before you begin to move on.

The elves had kindly repaired our clothes and replenished our supplies. Since I knew that I was going to have to be running for a long time, I insisted on no skirts.

Apparently, all elves are as fascist as Elrond. Something about no occasion calling for women to run around in their under things. Which is stupid and archaic. And it meant that I was stuck in a dress…again. At least I still had my other dress, the only one I could actually walk in. I briefly debated pulling another Mission Impossible, but I didn't want to have to carry both a dress AND leggings and shirt in my bag.

Boromir and I hadn't talked about our….well, whatever it was. I think we were both a bit nervous about it, actually. It was an unspoken mutual decision to put personal affairs on hold until the end of the War of the Ring.

Still, while we no longer spent any significant time alone together anymore, he was as subtly affectionate as possible. He wouldn't kiss me, but he was affectionate in other ways. When he helped me down some stairs, he'd keep hold of my hand a moment longer than necessary, or catch and hold my eyes and send me a barely noticeable smile. It wasn't much, but those small things were more significant to me than if we had adhered to all the superfluous dating rituals of my own time.

Finally the day arrived for our departure. It was still winter, and the morning chill bit through our clothes to our bones. Normally I would have had my hair in a ponytail, out of my face, but I decided to go against practicality and let it hang down freely, serving as an added barrier against the biting cold.

The morning was serene, and I don't think I was the only one who felt oddly detached from everything. Aragorn and Celeborn went off alone to, I knew, talk about the orcs and uruk-hai along the river. Galadriel had long since given good-will gifts to the entire company. She'd given me a necklace: a small black stone on a delicate silver chain. I found out later from Legolas that it was a precious gem that supposedly gave strength and wisdom.

All too soon it was time to get into the Boats of Death, as I secretly thought of them. Why call them that, you ask. Firstly, because they were carrying us down the River Doom (woops, I meant Anduin) to orcs and uruk-hai. Secondly, with my complete inability to walk across a flat stable surface without finding _something _to trip on, I'm understandably not fond of huddling in a dinky little raft that's hurtling down a river so turbulent and dangerous and unpleasant that I'm POSTIVE Elrond must have had a hand in designing it. He's always out to get me.

I carefully maneuvered my way into the boat, trying to be careful not to a) tip the boat over or b) fall in. Both would suck, and both were entirely too likely, considering how my sense of balance is. I was secretly thankful that Sam looked just as uncomfortable in his boat as I was in mine. I wasn't terribly surprised when Boromir sat behind me. I felt slightly better, in fact. I always felt safer when he was there.

"I'm going to fall in," I announced to the class. Aragorn sent me a questioning look. "To the river," I elaborated, pointing at the deceivingly still water. "I'm going to fall in at some point."

"These boats were made by skilled elves. They will bear us safely," Legolas reassured me as he placed supplies in the bottom of his boat.

"Ah, but this is Rose, Lad," Gimli pointed out. "Stars have been known align to cause her trouble." Aragorn and Legolas exchanged a look at that, then shrugged, conceding the point.

I'd been quiet all morning, feeling as if I were watching the events from a distance rather than participating in them. The sense of distance was overwhelming, yet at the same time I felt like I was on the edge of a precipice.

In a matter of days, we would be attacked by Saruman's Uruk-hai and Boromir would either live or die by my hand.

I could REALLY learn to hate Iluvatar.

There's something to be said for spending long amounts of time on a river. It's therapeutic. I spent almost the entire time mentally running through the things I would LOVE to say to the uppity god if I ever saw him again.

I hoped he could read my mind and could hear all the nasty things I was saying.

I was really getting into it, completely zoned out, when Boromir scared the living bejesus out of me. It wasn't really his fault, I suppose. Don't think that I'm not going to blame him, however. See, a normal person would have gotten my attention by calling my name. But not Boromir. Oh no. THAT would have been easy.

He put his hand on my shoulder.

I was so deep in my thoughts that the instant I felt the heavy hand grab my shoulder, I yelped and instinctively lurched back. Unfortunately, I threw myself back so violently that it sent me right over the side of the boat.

Did you know that water gets cold in winter? Yeah, ICE cold. Know what else? Skirts suck to swim in.

I went in backwards over the side, like scuba divers do. The sudden shock of water stunned me for a second, and I stayed disoriented underwater. Fortunately, I did know how to swim. Once I got my wits about me, I fought my way to the surface.

I burst out of the water and took a gasping breath, but was dragged under again.

Here's where the trouble starts.

See, the river may look calm on top, but it was fast and turbulent. The boats were traveling at a rapid pace because they were on top of the water. There was no way I could have kept up. I was still trying to get to the surface for another gasp of air. I'm a strong swimmer thanks to years of swim camp, but I was weighed down by waterlogged skirts and shoes. I fought to get my head above water.

The surface got farther away.

It was at that moment that I finally got scared for my life.

I PUSHED myself then. I pushed my muscles harder and faster than ever before in my life. The surface got nearer. I surfaced, but couldn't get a breath before I was pulled under again. My body was telling me to breathe but wasn't letting me.

All I could think of was "_please."_

I'm not sure how long I was under water, but my lungs had gone passed burning. Everything was becoming hazy with oxygen deprivation. I didn't want to fight anymore. Distantly, I felt arms wrap around me. I passed out before we reached the surface.

3


	18. working smarter, not harder

I woke up to someone pushing hard on my chest

I woke up to someone pushing hard on my chest. Rolling on my side, I coughed up the seven gallons of water I'd inhaled, then collapsed flat on my back. I dimly stared up at Aragorn's relieved face.

Slowly, my senses came back to me. I shook my head and sat up.

"Who?"

"Me." I turned at Boromir's voice and took in his soaking clothes.

"Thank you," I said, my voice rough as sandpaper. My throat was on fire. "You saved my life."

"It was my fault you fell in," he said, the guilt in his eyes belying his dry tone.

"Nah," I said smiling wryly to reassure him. "A normal person wouldn't react so violently to a tap on the shoulder."

"We camp here tonight," Aragorn said, ending the conversation. "Rose needs rest, and we have made unusually good time this day. In a matter of days we should reach the argonath." He offered me a hand up.

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Night had fallen, and the air had grown cold. I pulled my cloak tighter around me as I sat on watch.

Technically, my watch had been over several hours before, but I decided that the others needed rest for the journey that lay ahead for them. Besides, they'd been paddling hard for days now, and must be exhausted. Especially Frodo. He was always so tired lately, and I knew it was because of the ring. I had been watching him, but knew that his journey would only get worse before it got better. I kept trying to think of something wise to say to him, but couldn't come up with anything.

It wasn't like something was going to attack us in the night, or it would have been in the books. I knew only Gollum would be out tonight. Besides, I needed the time to think in peace.

Today I faced my mortality for the first time. My life here wasn't a given anymore. It could end at any time. It had nearly ended in that river. I was filled to bursting with a new sense of determination.

I'd been acting like a child. But I had changed because of this journey. Now I was going to complete the change. I was going to become the woman I would want my daughter to be, the woman I had always wanted to be.

I also had to face something else: the possibility that I might not be going home. I hadn't really thought about the future beyond the war. In the back of my mind, I had always sort of assumed that, like Gandalf, when my job was done here, I would leave. And, true, that outcome was still possible. But it was equally possible that I might not be going home.

Honestly, I wasn't sure which I wanted more: to go home or to stay here. As usual, it seemed I couldn't win for losing.

I wiped a hand tiredly down my face. Life was going to begin royally sucking very shortly, and I wasn't entirely sure what to do about it. Everyone who knew the reason I was here expected me to make a decision, but I kept procrastinating on making plans. It seemed Hamlet and I had a lot more in common than I had previously thought.

Filled with restless energy and frustration, I got up and walked as quietly as I could (meaning that every twig within a mile radius managed to find its way to my feet) into the woods. I'd had to change out of my wet clothes earlier in the day. Sadly, I'd been wearing my only pair of jeans, which meant I was in a dress again. The dratted thing managed to catch on everything in the known universe.

It was when I'd tripped and face-planted for the fourth time– not my fault, by the way. I mean, those roots were MOVING INTO MY PATH – that I noticed something behind me.

"Whoa, Ugly!"

Upon seeing it, Mental Rose recoiled violently, then bared her teeth in a hiss before fleeing into a corner to hide. Clearly, she'd spent too much time watching Gollum.

I whipped out my sword and made to press it to the Uruk's throat, but he was faster. Our blades collided, the shock going up my arm to my shoulder, but we were already swinging again. I had both my swords in hand by now, and was grateful as my body seemed to remember every second of the grueling drills Aragorn had put me through as we locked ourselves in a deadly dance.

In the back of my mind, I noticed that he was only on the defensive. He made no move to attack, only to defend himself. I caught his sword with my left sword, and slashed at his throat with my right. For one hope-filled instant, I thought I had him, and then he threw himself at me and head butted me so hard that I stumbled back to the ground and fell, too disoriented to even brace myself for the killing blow.

But the blow never came. Instead, the Uruk lowered his sword and stepped away. As my senses came back to me, I slowly stood, not knowing what to do or think. I'd dropped my swords at the head butt, and they now lay by his feet, useless. I was unarmed, yet he made no attempt to finish me.

"Why don't you kill me," I asked hesitantly.

"I am no murderer."

My jaw dropped at the sound of its voice. "You're female!"

"You are, too," she snapped defensively before – I kid you not – crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry," I stuttered, amazed. "I've just never heard of a female Uruk-Hai before. It's a little startling."

"Where did you think all of the little Uruk-Hai came from then," she said sarcastically.

"No," I snapped defensively. "From humans and orcs." That shut her up.

"Well, we DO exist, obviously," she said after a moment.

"Clearly," I snarked. I eyed her warily. "Why haven't you killed me?"

"Like I said, I'm no murderer. I didn't even want to be part of this mission," she said bitterly to herself. "I hate violence. I wanted to be a cook."

I stood there blinking for a second. This couldn't be happening. A pacifist female Uruk-Hai who wanted to be a cook? Maybe she'd head butted me harder than I'd thought.

Or maybe I'd stepped into the Twilight Zone on accident.

And that's when inspiration hit me harder than an oncoming semi.

"It must be terrible to want something that your people don't approve of," I said slyly. "I know where you're coming from. No one will let me wear pants or jeans, yet skirts like these are highly dangerous for a woman like me." I patted her back comfortingly, trying to ignore the stench.

"It's terrible, in'it," she commiserated. "Stupid males think they can make us do whatever they want jes' cause we're women."

"It's not like they're smarter. I mean, it's the women that do all the work," I said, throwing myself into the zeal of women's suffrage. "Why should men get all the pants?"

"Exactly," she said, getting stirred up. "Why should they get to choose what we do just because they've got extra dangly bits?"

"They've got a penis and a brain, but only enough blood for one at a time," I said on a laugh.

Nothing bonds women quite as fast as complaining about the opposite sex. Suffrage, it seems, is inter-species.

"You know," I said brightly, as if it had just occurred to me, "I think we can help each other."

"How?"

"Well," I said slowly, tapping my chin, "There's only one man who has ever helped me get jeans, but when your troop attacks, they'll try to kill him. If you help me keep him alive, then I'll make sure you become a cook after the war. I'm sure I'll get some sort of compensation for all of this. I'll make it happen for you."

Her eyes narrowed as she thought about it. "Done."

Her easy acceptance made me narrow my own eyes. "How do you know you can trust me," I asked.

She looked at me with the Uruk equivalent of a raised eyebrow. "Well, of the two of us, my side isn't the one known for foolish honesty and honor under impossible circumstances."

I opened my mouth to deny it, then closed it on a shrug. "This is true."

"Who am I looking for?"

The tall hunk of burning love? "He's the tall black-haired human. You'll know him by the horn he carries."

She nodded. "I'll see you in battle, human."

"Later, Uruk."

I made it back to camp, managing to only face-plant twice. Who's a ninja? Yeah, that'd be me.

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I woke up the men come daylight. I had opted not to go to sleep at all, and the groggy, cold feeling I had was disconcerting and unpleasant, but I knew I'd sleep in the boat.

They were surprised that I'd let them sleep all night, but let it go with a thank you when I said I knew what I was doing.

Boromir did look slightly surprised when I just curled up like a cat on the floor of the boat and let the sun warm me, but then I was asleep and didn't care anymore.

I woke up to the sounds of rushing water. Sleepily, I popped my head up and gazed bleary eyed at the Argonath. It took me a moment to register what that meant.

It was D-Day already.

I was suddenly wide awake. I hopped out of the boat, then cursed as I landed in the water and lose my balance on the shallow water of the bank. I fell, but managed to twist so that only hem of my dress was soaked.

"Ick," I said, as I stepped onto the land and bent to wring out my skirt. Legolas looked on disapprovingly.

"You're too independent. You should have let one of us help you out of the boat. Then you wouldn't have fallen," he said with a frown.

"So I've been told on many an occasion," I said with a smile as I finished. "Er…well, the part about me being independent, anyway. The boat thing has never really come up before."

He continued to frown so I stood and patted his shoulder. "One day, honey, you'll learn to like having a woman around who doesn't need you to tie her shoes for her." Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Frodo head off into the woods.

"I'm going to go gather firewood. I'll be back," I said, heading off after him.

It took me a while to catch up with him. Hobbits are nimble creatures and silent, even in the woods. I, on the other hand, was as graceful as a wildebeest and could make a deaf, dumb and blind man turn around in surprise to see what all the commotion was about.

"Frodo, would you wait a freakin' minute," I called. I caught up to him.

"Did you need something, Rose?" He asked, the exhaustion in his voice clear. I looked at him then for what seemed like the first time in ages.

He was thin and pale now. The silver chain had begun to rub a red line around his neck, and exhaustion made the bags under his eyes deep enough to carry groceries in. In a spur of affection and sympathetic helplessness, I reached out and hugged him.

I knelt to make us eye to eye, but I was short enough that kneeling made him taller than me.

"Frodo, do you trust me?"

He nodded. "As much as I can trust anyone."

"Then trust me when I say that everything is going to be ok. That everything turns out ok in the end." I gazed into his eyes seriously, as if I could make him believe it if I looked deep enough into his eyes. "But you have to leave now. You have to take Sam and some small supplies and steal away before the others notice."

"Why?"

"Because you know as well as I that the Ring is going to tear us all apart. Besides, this is something that you have to do alone." I met his eyes levelly as I realized something "You know this. It's why you keep pulling away from the rest of us. You've already decided to leave, haven't you?"

He looked away. "Yes. I refuse to watch them go through this."

I smiled softly and tilted his head with a finger under his chin. "You're a great man, Frodo Baggins of the Shire. Remember that. And remember that everything will turn out ok in the end. If it's not ok, then it's not the end." I sighed and shook my head. "If I knew that I was strong enough to resist the Ring, I would go with you."

"I know." He hesitated. "I hate this."

"I know." I looked down. Unable to help myself, I grabbed him and wrapped my arms around him, hugging him close, trying not to let the tears leak out.

"I'll be waiting for you when you come back," I whispered. "I promise this. I'll be the first person you see when you wake up from this nightmare." I squeezed him one last time before I let him go. "Have faith. Now go."

Walking away from him was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I did it. I had to. I had no choice. Neither of us did.

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	19. The sucky part

Disclaimer: Still don't own it.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. And no, I'm not discontinuing this story. Also, there's a lot of profanity in this chapter. Normally, I'm not like this, but under her circumstances....well, you'll see why.

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I found Boromir in the woods, sitting on a fallen log, a pile of firewood beside him. His back was to me and his head was in his hands, so I was fairly certain he didn't know I was there. For a moment, I just watched him, a strange feeling of peace coming over me, like the eerie calm before the storm.

I came up slowly, hesitantly, afraid to break the spell, and sat beside him. I knew what he was going through, and I knew what I needed to do, but for a moment, I just wanted to be with him. I laced my arm through his and leaned my head on his shoulder.

"FRODO! WHERE ARE YOU, FRODO?!" The shrill hobbit voices pierced the silence.

I jumped up. It was over. Boromir would never try to take the Ring now, and would have no reason to die. I spun to face Boromir, who was now standing, preparing to run to the hobbits.

"We have to find Merry and Pippin! Orcs are about to swarm these hills, and they're looking for hobbits," I said, turning where we heard their voices.

"What about Frodo? Isn't he more important?"

"I'll check on Frodo, you go to Merry and Pippin. And, Boromir," I said, catching his arm before he could run to battle, "if you let yourself get killed, you are getting the silent treatment from now until eternity." I pulled him to me and kissed him. With that, I veered towards where I thought the camp was.

A few minutes later, I heard the Horn of Gondor sound, and my heart skipped a beat. I pressed myself harder to the camp.

I skid to a stop when I reached it. Sam was being pulled out of the water by an invisible Frodo. Good, then Frodo and Sam were on their way.

Then I did an about face and hauled ass in the direction to where Boromir was.

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As I came upon the scene, all I could see was Aragorn bent over Boromir's fallen body. My vision tunneled to Boromir's closed eyes, and my entire world stopped.

Distantly, I could hear someone scream like their heart was being ripped out. It took me a second to realize it was me, as Aragorn turned to me, startled. I hurled myself to the ground beside him.

"Rose, stop! Rose, he's not dead!"

I turned in disbelief to Aragorn. "He's ok?"

Aragorn smiled and nodded. "Just unconscious. See? No blood. He's uninjured. He'll wake in a moment, Little One. He's been given a mighty blow to the head."

That was little comfort, considering how delicate the skull is. I'd watched enough E.R. to know that he could be in a coma.

Slowly, Boromir opened his eyes and looked around. "What on Arda?"

Or not.

"Are you ok," I said urgently, resting my hand on his chest while I inspected him for injury.

"Yes, yes, I am fine. Just a little headache now is all," he said.

"Good. And in that case," I said, and then smacked him on his chest. "That's for scaring the crap out of me.

"They have taken the hobbits," Aragorn said grimly. Boromir cursed, sitting up.

"I failed then."

"You were unconscious. You could have done nothing more than you did. You are lucky to be alive."

"It was most strange. I slew many orcs, yet they all seemed reticent to kill me. They defended, never attacked. Then one came from behind and knocked me unconscious with the hilt of their sword."

I smothered a grin, at that. So my Uruk friend had come through for me after all. Yay, girl power!

"Rose, what did you do?"

I gave Gimli the most innocent look I could muster. "I don't know what you're talking about." They all gave me a look. "Um….hobbits…we seem to be missing some," I said, changing the subject smoothly. They exchanged glances, but seemed to mutually decide to let it go.

"Frodo! Where is Frodo? We must find him," Aragorn said suddenly, as though the Ring-Bearer had just occurred to him.

"Frodo and Sam have taken one of the boats and left for Mordor," I said, not meeting their eyes as I pretended to smooth my skirts.

"That is folly! We must go after them!" Gimli cried as he shouldered his battle-ax and prepared to chase them.

"No," Aragorn said calmly. His grey eyes gleamed with sudden insight. "They are beyond our reach now. Frodo's path is his own. We cannot help them."

"Then we have failed. The Fellowship has failed," breathed Gimli.

"No. Not while we have each other. We shall not leave Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have breath in our bodies," Aragorn said, rallying us.

Mental Rose groaned at this point. I mean, I'm all happy that so far everything is working out, but this next part is gonna suck. I mean, it's REALLY gonna suck. I've skipped gym class for tamer stuff than we're about to do. I know it sounds selfish and I know I'm whining like a three year old, but I hate this part. I really, really, REALLY didn't want Aragorn to finish his line.

"Let's hunt some orc!"

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Fuck running. This sucks. This sucks big hairy monkey balls.

I never fully appreciated just how completely and utterly out of shape I was. I mean, I thought that with all the walking we'd been doing, I'd have gotten in at least a little better shape, but no. My lungs were burning for oxygen, my throat was sore and dry from trying to provide the oxygen, my heart was pounding so hard I thought it might explode, and my legs felt like molten jelly. I really don't know how I was still on my feet. I just prayed to God to strike me dead.

The only thing that sucked harder than the running was the fact that the men didn't seem as hard put as I was.

Well, ok, Gimli did. That's why Gimli's my homeboy. But Fairy Prince boy over there wasn't even out of breath. Sometimes I hate Legolas, even if he is a good man. Aragorn and Boromir showed the strain on their faces, which made me hate them less, but they still seemed to be going easier than me. Especially considering that I managed to face-plant every other mile.

I have never really envied Mary-Sues before now, but they always seem to have their magic horses or broomsticks or flying unicorns or whatever other crap that gets them out of running. And I have NEVER wanted to be one before, but right now, I'd gladly put up with the creepy rainbow hair and tie-dyed eyes and anatomically impossible boobs just for five fucking minutes on a horse.

Notice that I also get cranky and foul-mouthed when I run. Know why? Cause it SUCKS, that's why. And yes, I know I shouldn't be cussing this much, but you know what? YOU run flat out for days on end with no rest or food or sleep or breaks, and THEN you can wash out my mouth with whatever soap you please. Until then, deal.

Anyway, I'm going to wrap this up and say that we ran for a long, long, LONG assed time. I'd like to say that it's not that bad in hindsight, or that I blocked it out, but no. It WAS that bad and I remember every fucking minute of it. And it sucked.

Later, (much, much, MUCH later. As in, fifty years later) we stop running. When Aragorn told us to hide behind the rocks, I nearly passed out. I just flopped down and lay on the ground spread eagle, trying to reinflate my lungs.

I heard the thundering of horses galloping passed. Aragorn whispered for us to come out of hiding. I cursed him in English under my breath, but forced myself to get up.

"Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?"

The horsemen swiftly turned around and encircled us, closing in with their spears. Normally, I'm sure I'd have been terrified, but I was too exhausted to care. Eomer rode forward through the other men to address us.

I have a confession to make here. I have always had a major crush on Eomer. I mean, yeah, I'm in love with Boromir, and yeah, I'd die for him and all that jazz. But hey, a girl can enjoy looking, can't she? So when Eomer rode up, I barely resisted clapping and bouncing on my heels from excitement.

"What business do you have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!"

"Give me your name, horsemaster, and I shall give you mine," Gimli snapped. Tired as I was, I couldn't help snickering at that.

"I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

"You would die before your stroke fell," Legolas challenged, whipping out his bow and arrow. The horsemen pushed closer, and suddenly I had a spear in my shoulder. I looked over my shoulder and glared at the spear's owner.

Aragorn broke the tension. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Glóin, Boromir of Gondor, Legolas of the Woodland realm, and Rose." I was slightly miffed that I didn't get a cool title. "We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king."

"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets." Eomer gave me a long, measuring look. It seems I wasn't the only one to notice that Aragorn wasn't forthcoming with information about me.

"Eomer, surely you do not imply that I am a spy," Boromir broke in, stepping in front of me ever so slightly. I was suddenly distracted by a spectacular view of Boromir's backside. "We have known each other for many long years. We have fought side by side in battle. You know I am your friend and ally."

Eomer sized him up with his eyes before taking off his helm. The horsemen lowered their spears. "Aye, Son of Gondor. Rohan well remembers her brother in arms." He walked forward and clasped arms with Boromir. "What has business has brought you to Rohan in these foul times?"

"We are tracking a band of Uruk-hai that have taken two of our companions captive."

"And you bring a woman on so dangerous a mission," Eomer asked, staring incredulously at me.

"She is no mere woman," Gimli defended before anyone could stop him, "she's a seer, and has proven to be invaluable on our journey thus far."

I made a mental note to hug Gimli for being such a sweetie, then smack him upside his hairy little head for being an idiot.

I met Eomer's measuring look dead on. I wished I looked regal and impressive like a seer should. Unfortunately, I was sweating like a pig, covered in dirt, no makeup, my hair could probably grease a pan by now, covered in scratches and bruises and my dress was torn from me tripping so many times on my run.

I really, REALLY love the first impressions I make with important people.

"Tell me, Seer, why you have not told them of the fate of their quarry? Unless, of course, you do not know it yourself," he challenged, our eyes locked.

Mental Rose planted her hands on her hips and said "oh, no he didn't."

One of my eyebrows flew up, unbidden. "I know you killed the Uruks, and I know you didn't find our companions there. I also know that Merry and Pippin ran into Fanghorn." Everyone looked startled at that, some because they didn't think I actually knew, and others because the hobbits had fled to Fanghorn.

I was proud of myself for not adding "Bring it, bitches!"

"Fanghorn?" Gimli breathed. "What madness drove them in there?"

I blinked in surprise. "Uh…._they_ did," I said, jerking my head at the horsemen. Eomer glared at me. "Yeah, dude, I'm talking about you."

"Pursue your companions, but do not trust to hope. Fanghorn is an evil place by all accounts." He whistled. "Hasufel! Arod! Turac!" Three horses were brought forward. "We lend you these horses. May you fair better than their former masters."

You know, in the movie, he says it all dark and broody and stuff. Turns out that in real life, he is actually a little sarcastic. Like, "may you fair better than their former masters" actually meant "kiss off."

Well, aren't we suffering from a case of testosterone poisoning?

"We ride north!" With that, the company wheeled their horses around and galloped off very dramatically, which was the effect he was going for, I'm sure.


	20. Meduseld and a decision

**Disclaimer**: Don't own it. Don't sue. Believe me, my student loans are ridding me of all my money anyway.

**Author's Note**: Thanks to everyone who sent messages and rode my butt until I got it updated. It is much appreciated.

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So now we're walking in Fanghorn. Why walking, you ask? Didn't you have horses? Oh, yes, we had horses. But true to books, Gandalf the Fucktard (I'm bitter and I have blisters and he's making me walk, so I'll call him what I want) scared our horses away when we camped on the edge of Fanghorn. And no, I have absolutely no idea why he did this. Maybe he was bored, or maybe he's just being his usual sunny self.

Suddenly, I felt a little less guilty for letting him die. Stupid wizards.

Alright, I can't lie. I mean, I'm sure if you were from Middle Earth, then Fanghorn was creepy as hell. But I've seen Harry Potter, and all I can say is that the Forbidden Forest is infinitely cooler. I mean, I would get a MAJOR kick out of a centaur coming around the corner. I kind of hoped that Harry Potter would jump out in front of me.

With that in mind, it was REALLY hard to take Fanghorn seriously.

Gimli caught my attention, and I watched in horror as he wiped a spot of orc blood on a leaf, then tasted it. "Ugh. Orc blood," he said, spitting it out.

"What the _hell_ was that," I asked incredulously. "Did you just _eat_ that?"

Gimli blinked. "Aye. It was the only way to tell what it was."

"That's what I'm for," I said slowly, horrified. "I tell you what something is. It's my job. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to put random substances in your mouth?"

"It's part of tracking," Aragorn said, cutting off Gimli's retort and effectively ending the argument. "Night falls. We need to make camp.

"Camp? In here?" Fear tinged Gimli's voice, though he tried to keep his voice from wavering. I rested my hand on his shoulder and smiled.

"This forest isn't evil, my friend. No harm will befall you," Legolas said, his eyes strangely lit with excitement and anticipation. "It is very old, full of memory anger."

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I had first watch. I knew Gandalf was supposed to appear tonight. Anticipation had me too wired to sleep, so I decided to let the others rest for as long as they could.

For all that Fanghorn was intimidating, it was also strangely restful, at least for me. This was one of the few places I'd been to since Rivendell that had no spirits whatsoever. With time, I had gotten fairly used to the spirits, but it was still unsettling to look up and see one standing nonchalantly in the middle of the room. The fact that I had yet to see any spirits here made this place very relaxing for me.

It was well into the night, and I assumed everyone was fast asleep as I began to sing softly to myself in English. When Boromir came and sat beside me on the fallen tree, it scared the crap out of me. I hadn't heard him get up.

"You sing beautifully, though I cannot understand what you say. What do you sing of?"

"It's called Skylark, written by a man named Johnny Mercer. The woman is singing to a skylark, asking it to help her find her true love. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. I woke to relieve the watch. Your turn was over several hours ago." His voice was low and deep, rumbling through me. I turned so that I was leaning against him, his arms around me.

"I couldn't sleep," I said. "I figured I'd let y'all rest for as long as you could."

He was silent for a long time. "Something is going to happen tonight, isn't it?" I was silent for a moment.

"Yes. Or, rather, something is going to happen when y'all wake up in the morning."

We were quiet for a long while after that, listening to the sounds of Fanghorn and waiting for dawn. I started singing softly, and after a time, I realized that Boromir had fallen asleep again. Slowly so as not to wake him, I slid from his arms and covered him with my cloak.

To my utter surprise, however, I had yet another unexpected guest. The white wizard himself wandered into camp, and leaned on a tree in front of me, eyeing me bemusedly.

"So," I said dryly, "how was the trip?"

He gave me a crooked smile. "It was….life-changing." We both laughed. "I see your sense of humor is still well intact. I also see that two members of the fellowship are unaccounted for."

That gave me pause. In all the fanfiction I'd read, Galadriel and Gandalf were both basically omniscient, and I guess I had become used to thinking of them that way. It was startling to realize that Gandalf didn't know everything. I still had more knowledge than he did, even if he was ten times more powerful than ever before. "Frodo and Sam, at my suggestion, have gone off alone to Mordor."

Gandalf was silent for a long moment, obviously weighing the wisdom of my decision. Bizarrely, even though I knew that Frodo and Sam were supposed to go to Mordor alone, the longer Gandalf stayed silent, the more I doubted myself. I couldn't help the relief I felt when he nodded at long last. "A difficult decision, to be sure, but I trust your judgment."

"Even though I tried to save you when you fell," I said softly, ashamed of my past weakness. He looked at me hard then. "I almost ruined everything."

"Rose, the choice to let a loved one die or let fate run its course is one that even the very wise encounter with difficulty. Every life is sacred. Never be ashamed of trying to save a life, even if the repercussions are terrible. True, I would not have become the white wizard had you saved me, but that is not to say that we would necessarily be worse off than we are now. It is for the best that I fell, but do not regret trying to help me."

"Be that as it may, I have done my best to interfere only when I deem it absolutely necessary."

"You have matured greatly since last I saw you," he said thoughtfully. "I see far more wisdom in your eyes than I did before."

"It was bound to happen sometime, though I fought it tooth and nail," I said with a smile and a wink, trying to lighten the mood. Gandalf looked up at the sky then.

"It will be dawn shortly," he said.

"Are you going to leave and have a grand entrance later, or would you prefer to simply stay and have breakfast with us. It will be a nice surprise for them to wake up to," I said with a smile. "I've even become a better cook since you've been gone."

"You mean to tell me that your cooking skills could get even better," he said, feigning shock. It was well known that I lacked the ability to cook over an open fire, and I'd been teased mercilessly for it before Moria.

I stuck my tongue out at him, secretly glad to be able to banter with him again. "Hey, buddy, do I need to remind you that the _last_ time you got snarky with me, you had a little accident with a balrog?" He burst into laughter and came to sit down next to me.

When dawn came at last, I began to wake everyone. Shock did not begin to describe their reaction upon waking and finding their heretofore dead friend in their camp.

"My eyes deceive me," Boromir breathed, gazing at Gandalf.

Aragorn was silent and still from shock for a moment, before recovering himself and greeting the wizard with a warm smile and handshake. "Ah, but this is a joyous surprise, my friend."

"Leave it to a wizard to return from death, and then appear with the morning sun," Gimli said gruffly, trying to choke back his emotion. Legolas, for once, was the slowest to recover, looking back and forth between Gandalf and me.

"But you fell," Boromir said, disbelief in his voice.

Gandalf's eyes darkened with memory. "Through fire and water. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last, I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me. And I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and everyday was as long as a life-age of the earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back until my task is done." The thought occurred to me then that it must be a strong demon indeed if it could take on a Maia and kill him. "I am now Gandalf the White, and I come to you now at the turning of the tide."

"There will be plenty of time for questions," I said, cutting off Aragorn as he opened his mouth. "For now, we have more pressing matters." I handed Boromir his pack, shouldering my own.

Gandalf nodded his agreement. "One stage of your journey is over, another begins. War has come to Rohan. We must ride to Edoras with all speed."

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Edoras was bleak and grey, the citizens dressed in black to mourn their fallen prince. But it was evident, to me at least, that it was more than just Theodred's death causing the look of hopelessness on their faces. War had indeed come to Rohan, and with no king to lead them and the orcs running unchecked through the land, eminent death seemed to hang like a cloud over the city, sucking the hope like a leech.

Ironically, it kind of reminded me of Azkaban. I resisted the urge to snicker at the thought.

"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli said as we road through the city, the residents staring at us uncaring.

"Their prince has just died, Gimli," I said softly. "They are in mourning." It occurred to me then that maybe I should have tried to save Theodred, but I doubted it would have been a good idea. Like Boromir, much relied on his death and I could not see how I would have been able to manipulate circumstances to turn out as they should have. Regardless, it was too late now.

We stabled the horses. Even to my unskilled eyes, the horses in the stable were far more beautiful than any horses I'd ever seen. I smiled at a young stable hand who'd been staring at me (probably because I was the only woman in the stable, and had just ridden in with a group of male strangers) but he ran off, startled.

We were stopped by the guards before entering the gleaming hall of Meduseld. "I cannot allow you before Théoden-King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of Gríma Wormtongue."

Knowing what was coming, I'd already been working on taking off my sword-belt. For some reason, I'd always had trouble with it and it took me longer than it did any of the others. Fumbling, I managed to get it off and handed it to the nearest guard as the others handed over their own weapons. Boromir watched me with one eyebrow raised. "Not a word, Gondor."

He held up his hands innocently. "Wouldn't dream of it, Rivendell."

"Your staff," Hama said, gesturing to Gandalf.

"You wouldn't part an old man from his walking stick," Gandalf said reprovingly. Hama looked at me as I nodded.

"Oh yeah," I said, intending to have some fun with this. "He's….." I glanced at Gandalf, the man who'd returned from death-by-balrog as the most powerful wizard in Middle Earth, "feeble. Rickety, even. He's just _SO OLD_," I said, smiling up at Gandalf as I heavily emphasized the words, just to irritate him. He glared at me. I offered him my arm. "Need some help, _Grandpa_?"

I know I'm going to pay for that later, but it was totally worth it.

"Evil. You're evil," he hissed as we walked into the great hall. I just smiled and patted his arm.

Dude, I know Theoden is possessed by Saruman and everything, but wow. I mean, just…wow. Forget _being_ at Death's Door, Mr. Man looked like he was _knocking_.

You know those people who have phobias of the elderly. Well, Theoden was their worst nightmare. He was…well….nasty, is the nicest way I can put it. I actually shuddered as I looked at him.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King," Gandalf called out as we approached the throne.

"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow," the once-great king wheezed.

"A just question, my liege," Grima simpered, before straightening. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. _Lathspell_ spell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest."

I thought I'd seen Gandalf pissed before, but evidently I was wrong. "Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind you teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!" Fury lit his eyes as he brandished his staff. I nodded approvingly, highly impressed.

"I told you to take his staff!" At Grima's cry, the guards attacked us, but it was obviously half-hearted. Clearly, they were sick of Grima and wanted us to take care of the problem. Heck, I didn't even have to raise a hand to defend myself. I just gave one of the guards the Evil!Rose glare and he backed off, uninterested in fighting. Probably for the best, considering I had no skill in hand-to-hand combat.

"Théoden, son of Thengel, too long have you sat in the shadows. Hearken to me! I release you from the spell," he boomed.

The king started laughing, and Gandalf looked up, surprised. I had to restrain my own laughter at the look on Gandalf's face. "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey!" At that, Gandalf threw his robe off and strode forward, his white robes gleaming brightly. Theoden cried out.

Gandalf the White, brought to you in the nick of time by Clorox Bleach! I couldn't help laughter bursting out at the thought, earning a look from Boromir.

"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound!" Gandalf waved his staff.

"If I go, Theoden dies," Saruman hissed.

"You did not kill me, you will not kill him!"

"Rohan is mine!"

"Be gone," Gandalf cried, smiting Theoden as he lunged for the wizard. Theoden was thrown back into his chair where he writhed in pain. Finally, as the ties to Saruman were severed, he slumped, almost falling out of the chair as Eowyn caught him. Slowly, he breathed deeply, clearing his lungs and looking around the room with new eyes. His face changed to that of a handsome younger man before our eyes and he stood up straight. It occurred to me that Theoden was both impressive and had a commanding presence.

"I know your face," the King breathed, looking on his niece. "Eowyn." He looked up then. "Gandalf?"

"Breathe the free air again, my friend," the wizard said kindly. I glanced around to catch everyone else's reactions. All were gazing upon the King in amazement.

"Dark have been my dreams of late," he murmured, gazing at his shaking hands.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better... if they grasped your sword," Gandalf said as Hama handed it to the King.

It was at that point that Grima tried to run and gained Theoden's attention, though Gimli held him back. As the guards picked up Grima and bodily threw him down the stairs, I realized I had a choice to make: let Theoden kill him or let him go. I quickly ran through the future events in my head.

Grima tells Saruman about the drainage ditch in Helmsdeep, but as we win the battle anyway, it hardly mattered if it got blown up or not. He also throws the palantir down when Gandalf and Theoden confront Saruman in Isengard, which leads Pippin to grab it. But Pippin not grabbing it wasn't so bad a thing so long as he goes to Minas Tirith anyway, which they would at a word from me. I made the decision.

Boromir was looking at me. "You're looking into the future again, aren't you?" I glanced up at him in surprise. "You always get that strange, distant look on your face, like you're not really here." I blinked, but held up a finger for him to wait. More pressing matters needed to be dealt with.

"No, my lord! No, my lord. Let him go. Enough blood has been spilled on his account," Aragorn said, holding the Theoden back. Grima got up and started to run.

"Stop him," I commanded, startling even myself with the authority and command in my voice. Many hands grabbed Grima, shoving him back towards the King. Everyone looked askance of me as I came to stand beside Theoden. "Much blood may have been spilled by his hand, but much more will spill if he is allowed to live." I tore my gaze from Grima and looked at Theoden. I'd never ordered the death of someone before, and I kept my face as stoic as possible. "From here, he will run to Saruman. Kill him now, or your people will pay for your kindness with their lives, your Majesty."

Theoden gave me a long look, then issued the order. Grima was taken away by a few guards. I learned later that he was beheaded in the dungeons. To distract me from what I knew was about to happen to Grima, I did what I'd always wanted to do: I stole Hama's line.

"Hail, Theoden-King!" I cried, kneeling. Everyone followed suit. Theoden's eyes roamed the crowd as he turned to go in.

"Where is Theodred? Where is my son?"


	21. Rohan Ale: Drink Responsibly

Disclaimer: If I were lucky enough to own anything, I'd own Sean Bean. Mmmm….scrummy. Sadly, I'm not lucky enough to own anything.

Chapter 21: Rohan Ale: Drink Responsibly

I was clean once again. Before dinner, I'd managed to get a bath and clothes. While it was still a dress, I was so grateful for something clean to wear that I barely minded.

The simple green dress was actually lovely, though walking in a real skirt was taking some getting used to. I may have matured since coming to Middle Earth, but my coordination certainly hadn't. I'd already tripped and rammed my head into a door frame once this evening.

Still, I had no other choice until my own things were finished being repaired. I felt a little bad for whatever poor seamstress had to sew my Chase Dress, as I'd come to think of it. I'd really done a number on it as I'd tripped and stumbled on my way to and then through Fanghorn Forest.

After dinner, I'd come outside the great hall to think. I looked out across the great expanse of Rohan.

A change had come over me since I'd entered this land. It was more than maturity. Dealing with other humans again had affected me. Boromir and Aragorn were one thing, because I knew where I stood with them, and knew what their fates were. Elves were immortal, and for the most part, I knew what would happen to them as well.

Humans, however, were another story all together. I could relate to them, because I was human. And I affected their lives in a much greater way than that of elves.

It was beginning to feel like I was two different people: Rose, and The Seer. When I was Rose, I was myself. I was the clumsy and sarcastic 18 year old that was quickly falling in love with Gondor's Golden Boy.

But when I was The Seer, I became detached and cold, and wore the careful veneer of infallibility and near-omniscience. I had developed almost the perfect poker face. Even my manner of speaking changed when I became The Seer; it became slow, calculated, and completely unemotional, very much like Galadriel's. I knew what was expected of me by the other humans, and I played the part.

But it was more than just playing the part, I realized as I gazed down at the city. That cold façade kept emotions from clouding my judgment when making decisions. It also instilled confidence in the people who sought my knowledge, confidence that was necessary if I expected them to follow where I led them.

I wasn't two different people, however. The Seer was just a mask. I was always Rose, even when wearing my Poker Face, as I'd come to think of it. The Seer may have been the face to order the death of Grima, but the heart was still very much Rose. I felt I'd lost a piece of my innocence today.

Boromir found me there, and came to stand beside me. I didn't take my eyes off of the mountains. The flags whipped in the breeze as I looked out across Rohan, fiddling with my belt. We were silent for a long while, but I suspected what was coming.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you kill him?"

"Technically, I didn't. Hama did." Boromir just looked at me. I met his eyes briefly before turning back to the view. I let go of the gold cord around my waist and put on my emotionless Poker face, once again becoming The Seer. "Because his death solves a multitude of needless problems. Trust me, you should be glad I gave the order."

"I will never be glad when a life is lost needlessly," Boromir vehemently denied.

"Needlessly, Boromir," I asked, looking at him then. "His death spares dozens of lives."

A young page boy interrupted us then, looking scared to death to be in our presence.

"Both of you are summoned by the King," he stuttered, eyes wide. Boromir and I stared at each other for a moment before he bowed his head slightly, meaning for me to go first.

I swept into the hall, to see the King surrounded by advisors, obviously planning for the attack on Edoras. They looked up when we entered. Knowing well what was coming, my mask was once again locked in place.

Eowyn was speaking. "They had no warning. They were unarmed. Now the wildmen are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot and tree."

"Where's mama," asked the little girl she was tending to. I looked at her. Children were a major weak spot for me.

"Your mother yet lives," I said before Eowyn could shush her. The entire room looked at me as I stood beside her. "She made it out of the village safely, and you will see her again soon."

"So it is true, then, what Gandalf has told me. You are a Seer," Theoden said. It wasn't a question, so I merely looked at him. His eyes held slight awe, but his face and demeanor betrayed nothing. "This is good, very good. You are welcome in our halls. We will need all the advantages at our disposal."

"I will tell you what I can, Theoden, son of Thengel, but there are some things, some decisions, I cannot help you make," I said, my eyes wary.

"You will help us now, then." Again, it wasn't a question. He gestured at the maps on the table. "We plan our next move."

Gandalf spoke first. "Ride out and meet Saruman's forces head on. Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight."

"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak. Éomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king," Aragorn said, taking a puff from his pipe.

Theoden shook his head. "They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Éomer cannot help us. I know what it is that you want of me. But I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."

"Open war is upon you. Whether you would risk it or not," Aragorn retorted. Theoden looked at him, his eyes flashing.

"When last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan." Silence reigned.

"Then what is the King's decision," Gandalf asked at last. Theoden paused, and looked to where I leaned against a table, my arms crossed.

"Seer," he asked, locking eyes with me. I kept my face expressionless. I should have known he would ask me, I thought, kicking myself. I stayed silent for a moment, carefully choosing my words.

"Saruman has amassed an army far greater than you have yet seen. He has bred ten thousand orc and uruk-hai soldiers and will empty Isengard when he deems the time right. You are right not to meet him in battle on the plains, but Aragorn is also right, in that open war _is_ upon you."

Theoden's chin rose, as though he refused to give in to despair. "I refuse to let my people die." I inclined my head to him, beginning to respect this man.

"Do not abandon all hope, Theoden King. Send a rider out for Eomer and summon him to your side," I said, pointedly locking eyes with Gandalf. "Have him go to Helms Deep, where we will meet him with all our refugees." I heard Aragorn and Gandalf begin to protest, but I carried on. "It is there that you will make Rohan's greatest stand."

Theoden stayed silent for a moment, obviously weighing it over in his mind.

"It will be done."

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I could read a lot in the looks Aragorn and Gandalf kept sending me. Finally, I grew tired of it and excused myself, setting off down the hill in search of a pub. I was determined to get something to drink after so stressful a day. I was mentally exhausted. For the rest of the night, I was just gonna be Rose.

At long last, I came across one. With the somber mood of the city, there were only a few people inside, all of them guards from Meduseld. I was easily recognized when I entered, and one of the guards left his companions and came up to me at the bar.

"They say you're a seer," he said in Common, his accent thick enough that it took me a moment to understand what he said. I recognized him. He had been the one to take my swords when we first entered the Meduseld. He was handsome, tall, and charmingly self-confident. He looked only a little older than I was.

"For once, _they_ would be right," I said dryly, smiling. "Word gets around fast here, I see. My name is Rose, and you are Ther." I laughed at his surprised face when I said his name.

He returned my smile with a quizzical one of his own. "Indeed I am. Is this part of your magic?"

"Do you really want to know how I know?" He nodded so I leaned in, gesturing for him to do the same. "I heard one of the other guards address you," I whispered in his ear conspiratorially. We both began to laugh as I straightened.

"Well, Lady Rose, will you allow a simple soldier to buy you a drink?" I smiled and nodded. "What would you like?"

"Well, I haven't been here before, so you'll have to tell me what's good," I said as he hailed a barmaid. He ordered me ale, and then invited me to meet his companions. They all stood as we approached.

"Lady Rose, may I present Eulm, Haulm, Dirulm, and Helir, soldiers of Rohan," he said, each bowing slightly as Ther introduced them.

"It's a pleasure to meet y'all," I said with a smile, taking the seat that was pulled out for me.

"You rode in with my Lord Boromir and Gandalf," said the one named Eulm. "You must be a great lady to have such an escort."

"I am no great lady," I said, shaking my head. I thanked the barmaid when she brought my drink. "I travel with my companions out of necessity. Actually, where I come from, I'm no one special."

"And where would that be," Ther asked. They all looked at me.

I hesitated. "A long way from here," I said after a moment, glancing down at the table, refusing to become homesick. I looked back up and changed the subject. "Shall we toast to a renewed King Theoden and to the great men who guard this land," I asked with a smile. A resounding 'aye' answered my question. I choked on my gulp of ale.

"Do you not like it, Lady," Ther asked, obviously hiding a smile. I swallowed again, unable to keep a slight grimace from my face.

"No, no. I like it," I assured him, wheezing. "It's just…it's a _LOT_ stronger than beers we have at home. Took me by surprise is all."

The men started laughing. "Your first taste of Rohan's famous ale is always one to remember," Dirulm chuckled. We talked for a few hours while the alcohol and conversation flowed freely. Shortly we were toasting anything and everything we could, and when Gimli and Boromir walked in and found me, we toasted them too. Well, to be more specific, we drunkenly toasted Gimli and "Mr. Sexy Pants" as I referred to him. We entreated them to drink with us, and by the time we left, all were completely smashed.

"Y'all aren't sober," I chastised them as I clung to Boromir. His arm was across my shoulders as we walked, my arm around his waist. I couldn't tell if it was out of affection or an attempt to keep us both upright. Gimli drunkenly looked at me. I giggled and pointed to myself, "but don't worry. I'm not drunk either." I paused, frowning. "That's not right. No, I mean, I'm not _sober_ either. There we go," I said as I got it right. We waved goodbye as one by one, the men left the group to stumble home.

"I think she's had too much," Boromir whispered loudly to Ther as we stumbled up the hill. He pointed at me.

"She can't handle her liquor," Ther slurred in agreement. I flapped my hand at him dismissively.

"Pfft, I ain't as think as you drunk I am," I slurred. Wait, that wasn't right either. I giggled.

I tripped over…well, air, actually, but for a horrible moment, I thought the Earth was capsizing. "Hold on to your pants, boys! We're goin' under," I yelled before Boromir hauled me upright again. "Oh, false alarm," I said as the world went back to normal. "Why, thank you, Mr. Sexy Pants," I said, grinning at him widely.

As we approached Meduseld, we all drunkenly shushed each other, inadvertently being extremely loud. Hearing the noise, Legolas came out, looking at us with one eyebrow raised.

"Will Turner!" He looked both startled and confused at my cheer. I began to laugh and stumbled over to him. He caught me as I tripped and fell against him. I giggled hysterically. I smiled, and gestured for him to lean down.

"Yarr, I'm a pirate," I said, before bursting into hysterical giggles. Boromir started laughing so hard he snorted, causing the remaining group to howl with laughter. Still laughing madly, we made our way to the main room where pallets were laid out for all of us.

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I woke up on the floor beside my pallet, my blanket bunched up under my head while my pillow lay unused on the bed. Stretching, I grimaced. My head was pounding, my stomach churning, and my body was sore from a night spent on the ground.

At my groan, Boromir shot up from his pallet next to me. "Wha…huh," he spluttered, looking around in alarm and confusion before his eyes rested on me. I rolled on to my pallet and sat up, legs splayed in front of me while I slouched over. Blearily I looked at him. Suddenly, a shadow fell over me and I looked up to see a grinning Legolas. In his hands were two mugs.

"Morning, sunshine," he said, smirking. "How's that hangover doing?"

"Stop yelling," I whispered pathetically as I took the cup from him and sniffed it suspiciously. It smelled ok, but I wasn't sure if my stomach would tolerate anything after the sheer volume of alcohol I'd consumed the night before. Besides, the last concoction I'd taken from an elf still had me (literally) jumping at ghosts around every corner.

"Drink it, it'll help," he said, smiling. "Besides, you have to get up."

"Why," I asked, eyeing him with suspicion.

"You get to ride up front with the King today," he said cheerfully, obviously enjoying my misery. I groaned again, this time louder. "That includes you, _Mr. Sexy Pants_," he said, smirking at Boromir. I blushed, recalling my drunken nickname for him.

"Can't you tell them that I died or something," I begged pathetically. He just grinned and walked away.

"I don't think he has a _soul_," Boromir groaned.

In the end, the tea did help, and Boromir and I got dressed (or in my case, straightened, since I had fallen asleep in yesterday's dress) before heading out to breakfast. The entire city was packing, getting ready for the long trek to Helms Deep.

We met up with everyone else at the stables. I noticed that Shadowfax was already gone, and knew that Gandalf had left. I was given a horse of my own to ride this time, though I felt terrible about it. There were many other people who needed the horse far more than I did, but it was required that I ride if I were to accompany the king.

Soon enough, we were standing in front of the stables. "Boromir," I hissed. "Boromir!" Nothing. "Mr. Sexy Pants!" He glanced over at me, and I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. "I need help."

"With what," he asked, bemused. I glanced around to make sure no one else was within hearing distance before I answered him.

"I can't ride a horse," I muttered.

"Rose, we rode to Fanghorn, then to Edoras. What on Earth are you talking about?"

"No, YOU rode to Fanghorn then Edoras. All I did was cling to you, if you'll remember correctly," I hissed. I was less than pleased when he started laughing. "Yeah, laugh it up, Gondor," I said, glaring.

He tried to stifle his laughter. "You mean to tell me that The Great Rose, Seer of Middle Earth, dropped here from another entire WORLD, whose approval is sought by even the very wise and powerful, can't ride a horse."

With that, he absolutely roared with laughter, earning several looks from people surrounding us. My attempts to quiet him did nothing, until at last I kicked him in the shin. That shut him up.

"Alright, alright," he said, though he was still grinning ear to ear. "Here, I'll help you up. Stay close to me and I'll make sure you're alright." I grabbed the reigns as he boosted me up.

Taking his advice, I glued myself to his side, even while I tried to look as regal and self confident as I could. But for several hours afterwards, whenever Boromir would look at me, he would inexplicably burst into laughter while I glared daggers at him.

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Riding with the King was tedious at best. He kept pelting me with questions about the future, and I did my best to parry his questions with vague answers. It took all my self control not to give him ridiculous answers just to mess with him. After several days of this, however, it was beginning to wear on my nerves and patience. I was grateful whenever we stopped and I was allowed a reprieve.

I let one of the stable boys take care of my horse, since I had no idea how to do it. Instead, I flopped down into the soft grass out of the way of everyone. Then, making sure I wasn't about to be stepped on, I lay down and sprawled out stretching out my tired muscles.

I sat up when I noticed on of the women starting a fire to cook on. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a group of children running around playing. Smiling I walked closer to watch them. One of the older boys noticed me. "Sorry, miss. We didn't mean to bother you," he said in his thick accent.

"No, no. You aren't bothering me. I was just watching. It's been a long time since I've seen children play," I said. And then the though occurred to me that, if this were happening in my own world, these children would never be left unattended like this where strangers and pedophiles could snatch them. "May we join them?" He smiled and motioned me closer.

The girls immediately were taken with me, since I was a novelty to them. We sat in a circle. They were still very little, so I taught them the Pattycake clapping game. I was giggling right along with them when I happened to look up and see Boromir staring at me, a peculiar gleam in his eyes. I smiled at him at beckoned him to come join, but he shook his head, continued to stare at me.

After a while, Ther came over to pull me away to dinner. I smiled as I joined him and the rest of the guards from the night before. We were all laughing and passing stories, and I caught Boromir's eye where he sat with the rest of the Fellowship. I smiled at him, but his eyes glanced to Ther, then turned away. I wasn't sure what to think, so I pushed it out of my mind.

I stayed with the guards for a while, laughing with them about their families when the conversation turned unexpectedly to me.

"How is it that a pretty, sweet young thing like you hasn't caught the eye of some fine man," Hama asked, grinning at me.

"Oh, I think she's caught the eye of some man," Eulm said, nudging Ther and laughing. I looked at him in surprise as he blushed and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. I smiled at him and looked down. Since the ground wouldn't open up and swallow me, I decided playing along with them would be the next best idea.

"Oh, but Hama, it is only _you_ I have eyes for," I said, clasping my hands over my heart and batting my eyelashes at him theatrically.

He grinned then held his hand palm out, as if rejecting me. "But no, it is not to be, for I am a married man," he announced, turning his face away dramatically. "We are doomed to be but star-crossed lovers."

I grinned. "Oh, Lady Fortune, stand you auspicious! For I do not think I can stand to be parted from such an ideal visage of masculinity," I said, laying it on thick as I closed my eyes and pretended to swoon. Ther caught me and I cracked one eye and smiled at him.

Suddenly I was whisked out of Ther's arms by Hama. "Alas, I cannot stand to be parted from my honey-moon-pie," he proclaimed, twirling me around as I laughed at the horrible pet name. Suddenly we were dancing without music and he twirled me over and over again in some Rohan dance.

Eventually, I stumbled and he caught me, ending the dance. We were both laughing and breathless by now, so he bowed and I curtsied as I'd seen Eowyn do (although not as gracefully as she).

"I see now how you wooed your wife, Hama. She is a very lucky woman," I said, laughing as he sat down. "But now I must retire," I said. At his feigned groan of displeasure, I sighed dramatically and kept hold of his hand while I moved backwards. "Alas, parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow."

Still smiling, I began walking back to the fire the Fellowship was gathered around. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Boromir standing by the horses and went over to him. I smiled, but there was something in his answering smile that gave me pause. I was about to have an answer though.

As soon as I got close to him, he grabbed me, leaned me back, and kissed me breathless, surprising the crap out of me, not that I was complaining. As I've mentioned before, Boromir is epically amazing at kissing. This kiss was almost better than our first, since he had me leaned back a la the V-Day kiss in New York.

When he finally let me up, I came away dazed. "Woah," I said breathlessly, completely shocked and surprised. He flung his arms around my shoulders and we strolled right passed Ther to where Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas were watching us, amused. I noticed a look pass between Ther and Boromir and I narrowed my eyes. Was this all just a jealousy thing?

"Aragorn, I would like your permission to court Rose," Boromir said.

Wait, jigga what?

"Whoa, hold the phone, what," I snapped. "1, Aragorn is neither my father nor my keeper. 2, what the hell brought this on? And 3, how about asking ME if you can court me, eh?"

"Fine, will you let me court you," he snapped, then took a gusty breath as he realized what he'd just said. I narrowed my eyes, planted a hand on my hip, and raised one eyebrow.

"Oh, that was terribly romantic," I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "Just what every girl dreams of. What are you going to do for the proposal? Tie me in a gunny sack and_ haul_ my ass to the alter? After all, what girl could say no to such a smooth talker like you?"

"I didn't mean it like that," he said, running his hands through his hair.

"Then please tell me how you meant it," I said, crossing my arms.

"Ah, now, lass, don't be like that," he said..

"Really, Boromir?" My eyes widened incredulously. I shook my head. "You just want to do it because Ther has a thing for me. But I'm not Ther's girl, Boromir. Keep in mind, though, I'm not yours yet either. I deserve more respect than that, and you know it." I sighed as my anger deflated. This was such a stupid fight. I gave him a sad smile and touched his face gently. "I don't want to fight, and I'm not mad. I'm also not interested in Ther as anything more than a friend. There is no reason to be jealous. There is also no reason to rush this."

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "And you're right, I should have asked you instead."

I blinked. Was a man admitting he was wrong?

"We good," I asked him. He looked at me blankly, and I realized I'd lapsed into slang again. "Are we settled," I asked instead. He nodded. "Good. Let's get some rest," I said, looking at the rest of the Fellowship. "Tomorrow we reach Helm's Deep."

12


	22. The Battle

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply from the morning air.

The last few days had been a flurry of preparations. Smiths hammered as fast and furiously as they could to make weapons and armor for boys and old men barely able to hold them. Women and children had been taking what little remained of their belongings into the caves. Theoden kept summoning me to meetings to pick my brain. It was one of these that I had just come from.

"Rose?"

"Boromir!" I open my eyes and launched myself at him. We hadn't seen each other since the gates of Helm's Deep had closed behind us. After an all too brief hug, I let him pull me into a sheltered alcove. "How are you?"

"I am well. And you, love?" He pressed a kiss to my head as I leaned against him.

"I'm ok. Just a little stressed. But then, who isn't?" I pulled back from him. "Boromir, I've been told I have to go to the caves with the women."

"Aye, lass," he sighed. "It's for the best. You've not seen true battle, yet, and I won't have you hurt."

I punched him in the chest. He didn't seem to feel it at all. "I'm not going to go. It's important that I fight." I didn't add that I was going to be watching him like a hawk the entire battle.

"No, Rose, it's not. You're a—"

"Woman? Were you going to say woman? I know you weren't going to say woman."

"—Lady. You can't even hold up a broadsword, Rose, and your aim with a bow is terrible. I'll spend all my attention trying to keep you safe, which will help no one."

I wanted to argue, but knew it would be pointless. I'd find some other way to join the battle and look after him. After all, he was the only person who I didn't know the fate of. Instead, I settled on punching his chest again, then wrapping my arms around him. He put his finger under my chin and tipped my head back to look at me. "You look tired. Have you been sleeping?"

In fact, I'd been training furiously whenever I was not needed elsewhere. I had barely slept, and when I did it was restless. "I've just been busy. And I can see the circles under your eyes, too, Boromir," I said, stroking his cheek. " You haven't slept either."

He didn't argue the point. He simply turned to kiss the palm of my hand, and then his lips were fluttering gently over my forehead, my eyes, my nose, and finally my lips. All I could do was cling to him and kiss him back. The kiss turned desperate, and I poured all the fear, anger, and frustration into it. It gathered in intensity, and I felt him push me against the wall. Our tongues waged a battle of their own, and he lifted me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He turned his attention to my neck as his hands roamed over my body. I pulled his shirt from his pants, and ran my hands over his broad chest. Too soon, he stopped me.

"Rose, we can't." He rested his forehead against mine, both of us breathing heavily. Slowly, I gathered my scattered senses and slid my legs from his waist until I was standing on my own. He braced his arms on the wall on either side of me.

"Boromir." He looked at me. "This isn't goodbye. We WILL see each other again." I slipped under his arms and was gone before he could reply.

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"Rose!" I turned to see Eowyn jogging to catch up with me through the crowd of women heading into the caves. It was almost time for the battle. I waited as she reached my side and laced her arm through mine. "You aren't going to the caves," she asked in a low voice. She read my answer in my hesitation. "Take me with you."

"Eowyn—" I started, but she continued.

"They need every able bodied warrior, and I can fight! I know you were sent to the caves with me, and I know you aren't going. We can both be of use." Her eyes were intense, but not pleading, as they met mine. We looked ahead at the same time, and she yanked me to the side as I almost ran into a wall.

"Eowyn, your time is coming. Soon, in fact," I hastily added when it looked like she was going to interrupt. "Your story will go down in legend. But for this battle, you are needed in the caves. This is not your moment, but it WILL come, I promise you." She looked me hard in the eyes. I don't know what she read there, but she acquiesced grudgingly and released my arm. As she moved ahead, I shook my head and turned down a corridor, slipping into an unused room.

The last few days, I had stockpiled everything I would need. Quickly and quietly, I slipped off my dress and prepared.

"Oh, mother of god, pants," I moaned as I slipped the leggings on. Let's see Elrond get them HERE.

I threw on a shirt, slid on my boots, and pinned my hair up. I slipped the chainmail over my head with no small amount of difficulty.

"HURFLE!" I grunted as the weight of it settled on my shoulders. "How do men WEAR this? It weighs more than I do," I muttered. I tried to lift my arm, but found that the chainmail didn't allow the ease of movement I needed with my swords. I struggled to get it off again, grunting. Eventually, I just bent forward and let it slide off me to the floor. "Farfenhagen," I snapped as it caught on my hair, ripping out a chunk. I glared at the offending metal as I rubbed the new bald spot at the base of my neck. I stood there for a moment, wondering what to do. I couldn't exactly go into battle without armor, but the chainmail was all I'd managed to steal.

Mental Rose gave a shrug, and sat back to watch.

Without a better idea, I strapped my two small swords to my thighs using the makeshift leather holsters I'd pieced together using a belt and scraps. I noticed a mirror. It was the first time I'd looked in the mirror since Lothlorien, and I was almost a little scared at what I might see. Slowly I walked to it.

I almost didn't recognize the woman in front of me. Only a few months, and I looked so different. Or maybe I was just noticing different things. Gone was the tired, scared girl who had stared back at me. Now there was a confident, determined young woman there. Had I ever thought myself short and plump? Mousy? Though my height had not changed, I held myself differently. I traced my finger down my jawline. How had I not realized how much I looked like my mother? Her same blue eyes stared back at me, her same brown hair framed my face. For some reason, it made me feel better, and I smiled. That smile, though, was 100% my father's.

"Oh, crap," I muttered, noticing something else. This shirt did nothing about my chest, and it was clear that I was a woman. Frantically, I ripped off my shirt and searched for something to flatten my breasts. Finding nothing, I grabbed the dress and ripped it into strips that I wrapped around my chest, pinning the cloth in place with an iron pin left on the dresser. Slipping my shirt back on, I nodded in satisfaction. I could pass as a boy now.

Turning away, I slipped the helmet on my head, and walked out the door.

I strode through the corridors to one of the few armories I knew the location of.

"Boy!" Rough fingers grabbed and turned me. "Are you daft, or just stupid? Get some armor." The older man thrust a leather jerkin into my hands. Not questioning my luck, I took it and slipped out of the armory again.

I was trying to get it on (ties everywhere!) when I bumped into someone.

"Oh, balls." Legolas raised an eyebrow at my curse. I grabbed him and pulled him to the wall. "Don't tell anyone, Legolas."

"Rose, if I told you to go back into the caves, would you do it?" He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"No, no I wouldn't," I replied, as though it should be obvious.

"I didn't think so. Alright, let me help you." His hands deftly began pulling the pieces of armor together until my chest and arms were protected. Suddenly, he grabbed my shoulders and leaned down to look me in the eye. "Be careful. Battle is nothing like anything you've ever seen before. Keep your wits about you." I nodded. "Now go, they are lining the walls."

I let the crowd of men shuffle me onto the wall, but then hit the next snag in my plan. Where was Boromir?

I craned my neck, but couldn't spot him anywhere in the flood of men taller than me. I pushed my way through the crowd until I found him. Instead of getting his attention, I simply took a place somewhere behind him.

Eventually, the men on the walls became still. Rain began to fall. And far too soon, the Uruk-hai were at the gates.

It seemed for a moment that everyone took a breath at the same time.

Stillness.

The calm before the storm.

A lone arrow pierced the air, and then the neck of an Uruk. And suddenly, it began. Saruman's army began to chant and scream and work itself into a fury. I began to tremble and wish I was in the caves. But no, I made my choice. I kept my eyes level on Boromir.

Arrows began to fly, and suddenly hooks were shot over the wall, one piercing the man in front of me. Ladders were brought up, and the Uruk-hai poured forth. The battle had begun.

After that, there wasn't time to think, only react. I fought with everything I had. Orcs swarmed everywhere, and I didn't let myself stay in one place longer than a second. I figured, if I move fast enough, they can't catch me. I stabbed an uruk in the throat, then cut the hamstring of another. Blood spurted everywhere. I saw a man pinned by an orc, and swung my blades like scissors, decapitating the orc in one sweep. Sweet adrenalin surged through me, giving me strength and speed.

I killed another uruk, when I realized I was no longer in sight of Boromir. I tried to race to find him, but there is no such thing in battle. Every step you take, you fight another enemy. I would never find him in this chaos. My distraction earned me a brutal slash across my leg, nearly cutting the muscle, but I jumped back in time to avoid serious damage. I retaliated by ramming my sword into his neck, and getting my head back in the battle. If I searched for Boromir, I'd get myself killed, and then no one would benefit.

I don't know when, but the retreat was sounded. Still, the Uruk Hai had not bombed the drainage system.

I stabbed an orc about to kill a man in the back. "Ther?" The man turned and I don't know who was more surprised, him or me.

"Rose? What are you doing here?" He shoved me to the ground, and swung his sword, decapitating an orc behind me. "Why aren't you in the caves? Nevermind, it doesn't matter. Come on!" It was hard to hear each other through the noise of battle, so I'm only assuming that's what he said. All I know is that he grabbed me and hauled me towards where the rest of the men had retreated.

The battle raged on and on, becoming a blur. My armor became scraps around me, and my helmet saved me from what would have been a lethal blow to the head. I don't know how much time passed. I was exhausted.

And then I saw it.

Ther had been isolated somehow, surrounded now by Uruk-hai. I don't know how I found the strength, but I fought my way to him. But not soon enough.

By the time I got to him, his throat had been cut. He was dead before I could reach him.

Suddenly, the world went red. I heard a scream of fury and frustration, and realized dimly that it came from me, and didn't care. I fought as savagely and as dirty as I could.

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I wiped my blood drenched swords off and sheathed them again on my legs. I fell sloppily onto a bench. I pulled my dented helmet off at last, and let it fall to the ground. I pulled at what was left of my tattered armor, but was too tired to take it off. I could feel all the wounds I'd sustained in the battle, and my whole body ached with fatigue and pain. I knew I should probably go to the hall they had set up for the healers to do their work, but I was simply too tired, and I knew that there were men more injured than I. More than anything, I wanted to sleep. I could probably sleep for days.

I hadn't been able to find Boromir, and I was too scared to look among the dead. I was just…numb.

I forced myself off the bench and trudged along the halls. If I could find that room again, that empty room, I could sleep there. I couldn't face going to the room I had previously shared with a dozen other women.

I pushed open the door and sighed to see the room was occupied.

Trudging through the filled halls, it felt like the world was passing me by. What I wouldn't give for a cell phone right now, to just call Boromir and see if he was ok. But then, I shook myself. People needed help, and I was still able to give it. I couldn't let myself fall apart now. There would be time for that later.

I went to the Healing Hall and began to help with the injured. I had no knowledge of Middle Earths plants, and I was no doctor, but I knew enough to help clean wounds and stitch them closed. I worked for hours, letting my mind be consumed with helping everyone I could. When night finally came, one of the healing women stopped me.

"You're exhausted, lass. And I haven't seen you eat once today. Go get some food, and go to bed. As tired as you are, you'll likely do more harm than good."

I nodded, too sad and tired to argue. I stopped by the kitchens and begged a roll and piece of cheese, almost inhaling them. But I couldn't go to bed yet. I began to wander. I waited for emotion, any emotion, to come now that I had time to think. But there was nothing. I was tapped out.

My feet took me to the walls, now cleared of the dead. I stood there, with the wind blowing over me, and looked out at the pyres that now marred the landscape. Was he in one of them? Had he died, scared and alone? Had he thought of me as he died?

"Rose?"

I knew that voice. I hung my head, unable to react, not trusting my own senses. This must be some cruel trick. "If I turn around, will you be there? Will you really be there?"

Instead of answering, he moved in front of me. Suddenly, against my will, I started crying. And just as suddenly, I was crushed against his chest, and I think he was crying, too. And then he was kissing me with everything he had, and I was kissing him back.

"Oh, God, I thought you had died. I couldn't find you," I said against his lips when we had calmed down.

"I went to look for you in the caves, and then Legolas told me you had joined the battle. And then I found your necklace," he breathed.

"My necklace?" I pulled back enough to look up at him, without letting go of him. He opened his hand, and I looked down to see the necklace Galadriel had given me so long ago. "I didn't even realize it was gone." I took the necklace from him, and put it around his neck, under his shirt. "I want you to have it."

He pulled me to him again and kissed my forehead. "We should go find the others."

"In a moment." And for a while, we simply stood there holding each other.


	23. A Party

**Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I own nothing.**

**A/N: Thank you to all the wonderful readers who reviewed this story and got my butt in gear after years of leaving it stranded. You guys reawakened my desire to see what happens to Rose and Boromir. **

I was clean again!

"A girl could get used to this," I sighed blissfully before dunking myself fully in the steaming water. I had scrubbed off the blood and grime of battle as best I could using a rag and bowl of water, but now, back at Meduseld, a full bath was a relief. I had found a small knife sharp enough to use as a razor, and was blissfully hairless again. You'd understand what a blessing that is if you ever go this long without shaving.

We had journeyed to Isengard and found the hobbits. Actually, it had been kind of a disappointment to see Saruman. I was expecting some great and powerful wizard to unleash a great mental battle…but all I could do when I finally saw him was pity him. So complete had been his fall from grace that it was pathetic.

Still, it had been somewhat of a relief to realize that he knew nothing of me. He didn't know who I was, or what I knew. There had been no epic mind games, no victory, no cathartic revelation.

I found it curious, however, that Pippin had come across the Palentir, even though I had killed Grima. I wasn't entirely sure HOW he had come across it, but I had seen him looking at a big marble ball when we had camped on our way back. I guess Pippin is just bound to get into trouble.

"A'right, lassy, time to get out 'fore you get all wrinkly," said a woman as she bustled in, all business. I vaguely remembered her name was Fern as I squawked and sank into the water lower, to hide everything. She responded by putting a hand on her hip and clucking at me. "Now, none of that. I've had three girls of my own. There's nothing you have that I haven't got a pair of myself. Out."

I almost sank lower in the tub out of spite, but forced myself to get out. There was a fire in the hearth, but Rohan was still cold in the winter, and this room was no exception. I shivered and gratefully wrapped the towel she offered around me.

"Now, the feast is tonight, so I thought we could make you look nice and pretty for that lad of yours," she said with a wink. "Ah, he's as handsome as my Eulm was once upon a time." She had proceeded to unfold garments as she chatted.

"You're Eulm's wife," I asked curiously.

"Ach, aye. Been married twenty five years," she said, beaming at me. I smiled back at her.

"I met him once. He is a kind man. Is that what I think it is," I said, distracted as I caught sight of the most horrible thing I'd seen in years.

"He is that. Surely you've seen a corset before, lass. Where were you raised," she clucked.

"Yes, I've seen and worn them before. I just hadn't realized y'all had them here," I said on a sigh. "Boromir had better appreciate this."

She chuckled. "Oh, when I'm done with you, you'll be the prettiest girl there. With the exception of my lady Eowyn, that is," she added. "Known the lass since she was wee. Ain't no prettier lady in the land."

I had to agree there. Eowyn was strikingly beautiful. If any mortal woman could hold a candle to Arwen, it would be her.

"HURRRR!" Fern had evidently decided it was time to tighten the corset. "I have a breast shelf," I wheezed in bewilderment as I looked down. At least I wouldn't have to worry about dropping food in my lap; there was no way anything could possibly make it past the rack o' boob now staring up at me. Of course, eating in this contraption was pretty much an impossibility anyway.

Fern dried my hair by the fire, brushing it out and pinning it away from my face, letting the rest hang down my back.

The blue dress she put me in was perfect in its simplicity, and I was relieved that it wasn't heavy or ornate. And, I had to hand it to Fern; it certainly made use of my boob shelf.

"I'm gonna flash someone," I said, glancing up at Fern.

"Not with the way I laced you up." She reached into the dress and – I kid you not—FLUFFED my boobs. She did it so matter-of-fact that I wasn't sure if I should feel violated or not. "Now, for your face. Hmmm…" She took a twig from the fire and turned to me. I backed away slowly. What was she going to do now?

"Oh, settle," she clucked. "I'm just going to put it around your eyes, girl. If I had eyes like yours, I'd play them up as much as possible." I wasn't sure what my other option was, so I let her line them with the stick, hoping she wouldn't make me look like a trollop. "There now, very pretty. The key is subtlety. You just need some color in your cheeks." Without any warning, she pinched my cheeks hard. She gave me a look as I massaged my face. "You're as bad as Lady Eowyn was. You look beautiful, lass. Put on your shoes and get out there." She shooed me out of the room.

I lunged back in the room and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, Fern. I appreciate it." She blushed prettily.

"One day, I'm going to be her age and find out what makes middle aged mothers so scary," I said, shaking my head as I walked down the hall.

The feast was in full swing when I arrived. I laughed when I saw Merry and Pippin dancing on the table, and went to cheer them on. I clapped along with the rhythm.

"Oh, you can search - up and down

As many lands as can be found

But you'll never find a beer so brown

As the one we drink in our home town

You can keep your fancy ales

You can drink them by the flagon

But the only brew, for the brave and true,

Comes from the Green Dragon!"

"ROSE!" A very drunk Merry greeted me, not bothering to step down from the table. "You came!"

"I couldn't miss the floor show, now could I," I asked with a wink. "One day you'll have to take me to the Green Dragon, Mr. Brandybuck."

He bowed to me, nearly losing his balance. Pippin righted him. "You look right pretty, Rose," Pippin said by way of greeting. "Join us! The more the merrier!"

"I don't think I've had enough to drink yet, Pip," I laughed. "Talk to me after a few beers."

He grinned mischievously at me. "Gimli told us you're quite entertaining after a few pints. I'm hurt you didn't drink with us." He hopped drunkenly off the table.

"Gimli told you! The traitor. Alright, lead the way to the alcohol," I said, following him. "Hey, Pippin. I have a favor to ask you." He looked at me. I tried to play it nonchalant. "If you ever meet Boromir's father, don't tell him he's alive, ok?" Pippin looked surprised and horrified at the suggestion, so I hurried on. "It's important, or I wouldn't suggest such a thing." He hesitated, then agreed reluctantly.

I was finishing my first beer and listening to Merry and Pippin explain a drinking game to some soldiers when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"You look lovely," came a deep voice behind me. I turned with a smile to see Eomer. He smiled and offered his hand. "Honor me with a dance?"

I took his hand and let him lead me to the floor. "I don't know any of these dances," I warned him as he led me out onto the floor.

"Follow my lead," he said, before the music started. I hoped it wasn't a complicated dance.

It was. It was VERY complicated. Think of the Austrian folk dance from the Sound of Music. I was grateful for all those times Dad had twirled me around the living room of our home, insisting that I learn how to dance. Still, Eomer was as good as his word, and somehow spun me around gracefully. Once I learned to trust him and stop over thinking every step, I actually found myself laughing and having fun.

All too soon, the song ended, and I was smiling ear to ear. "I could use another drink," I said.

"I had the same thought," he replied, and led me to the barrels. It was there that I found Legolas and Gimli in the middle of their drinking game. I gratefully accepted the mug of beer that was handed to me, and watched Gimli drink himself into a stupor. The alcohol was going straight to my head and I was feeling flushed.

I set my beer down and went to watch the couples dancing. I leaned against a pillar. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gandalf and Aragorn watching me, talking in low voices. Serious buzz kills, those two. Boromir appeared by my side, suddenly, startling me. He grinned at me.

I smiled at him and grabbed his hands, pulling him. "Dance with me!" He laughed and let himself be pulled to the dance floor. He was even better even than Eomer, which surprised me a little. The shock must have shown on my face, because he smiled and spun me around.

"Did you think I couldn't dance?"

I enjoyed the feeling of him swinging me around like a pro. "It just doesn't seem like your M.O."

"M.O.?" He asked. I paused and frowned in concentration as I tried to mimic the prancing steps of the other women.

"Modus Operandi. It's latin." Dang it, there was a lot of work for the women in this dance! I gave up and made up my own steps, twirling around him. "It means your way of doing things."

He shook his head, and grabbed my waist, as all the men lifted their partners off the ground and spun. "I forget sometimes that you are so different from us. But to answer your question, I was raised at court. I can dance as well as I can fight." The song ended with a flourish, and Boromir bowed over my hand.

Mental Rose leered at him and asked what else he was good at. I told her to gird her frothy loins. "So, this is probably a stupid question, but does Gondor have any special dances?"

"Indeed we do," he said. "Come with me." I let him pull me out the great doors of the Golden Hall, and followed him down the stairs. I raised an eyebrow, curious to see where he was going with this.

He pulled me to a stop in a secluded area beside the great hall. He positioned me the way he wanted, then started to hum. This seemed so unlike what the Golden Boy of Gondor was supposed to do that a giggle burst forth. He shot me a look, effectively silencing me, and started again.

Slowly we began to dance. This was no Rohirrim Jig. This was slow and regal. The song invoked images of kings and white cities and grandeur. I looked at him, as he danced so effortlessly, and was suddenly struck by who I was with. He wasn't the Golden Boy of Gondor that I had teased him about in the past. This man would have been next in line to be Steward of Gondor, King in all but name. This man was destined for greatness. Had the Ring never reappeared, he would have been Steward, and he was still somehow the link to bringing elves back to Middle Earth.

I pushed the thought from my mind. There was time later to worry about things like that. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and let myself enjoy the dance.

He pulled me to a stop. We stared at each other for a moment, a breath away from each other. "You look beautiful tonight, Rose."

"Thank you." Our eyes were locked, and he raised his hands to cup my face. Slowly, softly, he closed the gap between us. His kiss was soft and loving, his lips fluttering over mine gently. His tongue teased my lips, asking permission. I opened them and he deepened the kiss. I let him back us to a wall, to privacy. I laced my fingers through his hair, loving the feeling of his strong hands on my neck, holding me to him. His other hand moved to my waist and I sighed against his lips, melting into him.

The kiss began to deepen, becoming more powerful. I caught his bottom lip with my teeth, and I swear he growled. He moved to my neck, nibbling and licking, and I would have fallen had he not been holding me up. I moaned softly as I felt his hands roam over my body.

Distantly, I heard someone come out to the balcony of Meduseld, and we both froze. Boromir braced himself on either side of me and rested his forehead against mine, both of us still breathing rapidly.

I suddenly had a fit of the giggles, like at a funeral when your mind chooses to remember the funniest joke you ever heard. I tried to keep it silent. Boromir opened his eyes and looked at me like I was crazy, which only made the urge to laugh stronger. My eyes began to water from me laughing so hard.

"What on Middle Earth is so funny," he whispered, bewildered. For some reason, that broke my restraint, and burst out into laughter. I calmed and looked at Boromir, which sent me into peals of laughter again, until he started laughing, too. We walked up to the hall laughing for absolutely no reason. Aragorn peered at us, one eyebrow cocked in question, which sent me into another fit of giggles.

The feast was wrapping up, now. Most of the party goers had left or passed out. I leaned against the wall, my arms crossed, eyeing Boromir in amusement. "I can't believe I nearly…." Boromir trailed off and ran his hand through his hair. "I mean we nearly…" I raised an eyebrow as he struggled to finish a sentence. "Out there in front of everyone," he finished, exasperated.

"But we didn't. And we wouldn't have." I leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Calm down, there, Tiger. Now, I'm going to sleep." And with a wink, I left him standing there, watching me.

As I walked out to breakfast the next morning, I was grateful I'd only had two beers the night before. It was obvious who was hungover and who wasn't. As I walked to where the rest of the fellowship sat, I noticed two members were absent.

"So Gandalf and Pip left already, I take it," I said conversationally as I grabbed a roll from the basket. Gimli looked at me in surprise.

"How did you know?"

"Well, they aren't here," I said, pouring myself a water. I caught his look and rolled my eyes, realizing what he was asking. "Really guys? How long has it been? SEER. Why is this such a hard concept?"

"Why didn't you stop Pippin," Legolas asked.

"For the same reason I do anything: it needed to happen." I glanced at Boromir. "I'm a little surprised you didn't join them, honestly."

"I ride for Osgiliath today."

My water went down the wrong pipe, sending me into a coughing fit. Gimli pounded my back helpfully, nearly making me ram my head into the table. "I'm good, I'm good," I said, when it looked like he would hit me again. I turned back to Boromir. "You can't."

He shook his head. "My duty to the Fellowship is completed. My people need me now, as does my brother and the Steward." I noticed he didn't call him Father. "My place is in Gondor."

I stared at him, doing calculations in my head. "How long would it take you to get to Minis Tirith?"

"At a reasonable pace, 5, maybe 6 days," he replied, watching me carefully now. I fell silent, counting the days in my head.

Gandalf was on Shadowfax, and was galloping full speed through the night. He would be there in four days, arriving on the 9th, saving Faramir from the nazgul outside the gates of Minis Tirith on the 10th. If Boromir and I left today, we would reach Minis Tirith on the 11th, when Faramir would have returned to Osgiliath, and Denethor's usefulness ran out. If I could get Denethor out of the way somehow, and put Boromir in power, he might even save the lives of some soldiers. I nodded decisively.

"Right. I'm coming with you." To his credit, Boromir didn't try to argue. I finished my breakfast and went to pack.


	24. Are you gonna kiss me or not?

**A/N: I'm hoping to finish this story in the next few days. Stay tuned. Also, I finally found a section divider that the document uploader doesn't delete. It should make the section transitions more obvious. Sorry about that in the past. **

I walked out with Eowyn. "Now remember," I said in a low voice, "take Merry with you when you ride out. Don't forget."

She nodded. "I will not forget. You have my word." The smell of hay and horses assaulted me as we entered the stable. A stable boy took my bag. I looked around.

"Where is Boromir?"

"My Lord Boromir stepped out with Lord Aragorn," replied the stable boy as he finished preparing the spotted mare and began to lead her out of the stable. I walked out with him and found the two men in a hushed discussion. I thanked the stable boy and took the reins from him and waited for the men. After a moment, they did that weird male one armed hug thing and came over. Boromir mounted his horse gracefully, and I suppressed a sigh, knowing I'd never learn to ride a horse well. These next few days would be hell.

I kissed Aragorn's cheek and hugged him hard. I frowned, knowing I wouldn't see him until after the Battle of Pelennor fields. I touched the Evenstar necklace, wanting to give him something as thanks for being an older brother to me. "You will get your happy ending, Aragorn."

He kissed my forehead. "Be safe," he said, giving me a leg up into the saddle. As we started down the hill, I indulged in something I'd always wanted to do.

I stood up in my stirrups. "AUTOBOTS, ROLL OUT!" My bellow drew looks from everyone within earshot.

Boromir looked at me with his eyebrows raised. "Sometimes, I forget you are from another time. And then you do something completely inexplicable, and it all comes rushing back."

I grinned at him. "You're just jealous."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Boromir and I had been together for so long now that we were easy traveling companions. It wasn't the boring ordeal it had been in October. Conversation flowed effortlessly, and sometimes quieted into a comfortable silence as we got lost in our thoughts.

This wasn't one of those times.

"So why did you never get married," I asked, chewing on a long blade of grass. We were still passing through barren fields, and I was trying not to focus on how badly my butt was starting to hurt.

He shrugged. "Any number of reasons, I suppose. I never found a woman I would consider tying myself to, and I was a better soldier than I could have been a husband. And then when my father became ill, I needed to be a leader with no distractions." I opened my mouth to ask another question, but he stopped me. "No, it's my turn for questions now. Why were you never married?"

The question took me by surprise until I remembered that women here probably got married off by 15. "In my world, you usually can't get married until you are 18. Even then, most people don't until they are older. Usually people only get married at 18 if it's a shotgun wedding."

"What is that?"

"Oh, sorry. I keep forgetting. It means that the girl is pregnant, and her father is forcing the boy to marry her. A shotgun is a type of gun." I held up my hand as he opened his mouth. "A gun is a weapon. It works by creating small explosions that shoot a small projectile." I could practically see the gears turning in his head, the soldier taking over.

"Do you think you could explain one to an engineer," he said thoughtfully. I raised my eyebrow.

"I can design one, if that's what you're asking. But there are many other things I would show you how to make first, like toilets, or advance your understanding of the sciences."

He looked at me with something new in his eyes. "Are all your women this educated?"

I nodded. "Women and men are equal in my time, although it's still fairly recent. Women get the same opportunities. Usually men and women are educated in science, math, literature, and history until they are 18. After that, most choose to pursue further education at universities."

His eyebrows shot up. "18 years of general studies? I was educated in them because I was heir to the steward, but most people start apprenticeships as early as 10, if not before."

I shrugged. "As I said, I can bring a wealth of knowledge to your country. I was actually curious if I could be a sort of inventor here."

"Women usually aren't. They run the households." He was watching me now for my reaction, I was sure of it.

"Well, that's not going to be me. I have no idea how to run a household. Bossing people around, doing nothing all day." I shook my head. "Besides, with all the good I could do, it would be silly and a little selfish to let it go to waste." I looked up, suddenly aware of the sun sinking over the horizon. "We should make camp." Boromir dismounted first, then helped me off my horse. He caught me when my legs gave out. "Heh. Sorry, I don't think I'll ever get used to riding on horses."

"I wish I could see your world. How different it must be that you know nothing of the things that are so common place here." I began to build a fire as he tended to the horses.

I shrugged, focused on coaxing the small flame into life. "It's very different. But it's no utopia. It's more extreme in every respect. We have more technology, but we our wars are bigger and more frequent because of it. We have more power, and more corruption. We can do more good, and more evil."

I looked up to see him staring at me. "Would you go back, if you could?"

I turned back to the fire, poking it idly. That was the question, wasn't it? I didn't have the answer. Would I go back? Would I go back to the medical advances, the cars, the ease of life? My family? Or was my place here? I hadn't really thought of it as a possibility. Half of me had expected to die here, and the other half had assumed that, even if I lived, I wouldn't get a choice in the matter. If I lived through this, could I leave Boromir? Or would I choose to never see my parents again, to never having my father walk me down the aisle, or my mother hold my first child? And children. Could I face possibly dying in childbirth here, or not having the vaccines to save my children from crippling and possibly lethal diseases?

Boromir must have seen the battle in my mind, for he turned the topic to lighter conversations, and I gladly let him. We chatted idly until we went to sleep, but the question still burned in my mind. Was it right to stay for love?

That night, I dreamed of faceless children.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo

It was the fifth night. Boromir said we had officially passed into Gondor now, and the change of scenery seemed to agree with him. We were in woods, now, and the mountains that had once loomed in the distance were very near, now. We had camped for the night. Boromir said it was too dangerous to light a fire, so I was leaning against him, wrapped in his arms as we huddled under blankets. We were trading funny stories to pass the time.

"So we did the only thing we thought was logical; we tried to defend her honor. Of course, we were untried youths and they were seasoned warriors, so they thoroughly whipped us. To teach us a lesson, they stole our clothes and made us ride back to the barracks naked." I burst into laughter at the thought of teenaged Faramir and Boromir riding through a camp naked. "Our captain punished us, but I think he was secretly proud."

I leaned my head back against Boromir's shoulders, and he kissed my temple. As he rested his cheek against my head, I started playing with his hand idly. My hand was only a little bigger than his palm, and stark white against his darker skin. He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my palm. I turned my head and kissed his jaw. After a few moments, I broke the silence.

"Boromir, make me a woman. No, listen to me," I said as he stiffened behind me. "I don't know what's in my future. I suspect I'm going to die here. And even in the unlikely event that I don't, there's no reason to believe that the piss-ass Iluvatar won't send me back to my own world the second the war is over."

"You would be ruined," he said into my hair.

"Those things do not matter to me. They never will. They will always seem silly, because I am from a time that places no importance on them." I turned in his arms to face him, and placed my hand on his cheek. "I am yours, Boromir of Gondor, if you will have me."

Indecision played in his eyes, but then he kissed my eyes, and my nose, and my jaw. I turned his face to meet mine and kissed him softly, rubbing my lips over his and teasing his lips with my tongue. He began to kiss and nip my neck, and I was glad I wasn't standing because I was sure my knees would have given out. I couldn't stop a shiver of anticipation as he laid me down on the forest floor.

0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o

Something was tickling my nose. I blew it away, but it came back. I opened my eyes and saw that it was a chest hair. I was sprawled across Boromir's chest, my leg tossed over his waist. I couldn't stop a contented smile from spreading across my face, and I laid there for a moment, just enjoying the stillness of the morning and the warmth of his arm around me.

Soon, though the world began to brighten, burning away the thin veil of morning. I stretched and kissed his chest before sitting up. I smiled when he opened his eyes and leaned down to kiss him.

"Time to get up." I yawned as I got up, and began to dress. It was, once again, the old chase dress that I was wearing. With all I had been through in it, it seemed wrong to travel without it. Besides, I was wearing leggings under them. It had become something of a security blanket.

I leaned against a tree, almost falling over as I tried to put on my boots. I felt a little bad as I watched Boromir, who was still putting on his armor. "And they say women take forever to get dressed," I commented with a grin as I went to saddle the horses. I wasn't good at it yet, but he had been steadily teaching me the basics. I hummed as I worked, occasionally singing a line or two and dancing a little. "Ooooh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight," I sang to my mare as I brushed out her mane. She rolled her eye and rubbed her face on me. I looked up to see Boromir laughing at me as he prepared his own gelding.

"You're happy today," he commented with a grin.

I smiled and tossed his bedroll at him. "Wouldn't you be?" I continued humming as I strapped my own bedroll to my saddle and pulled the mare over to a log and mounted. "Ready to go, cowboy?"

He swung himself deftly into the saddle. "We will reach Osgiliath today."

I bit my lip guiltily. "Right, about that. Osgiliath has been overrun. We are needed in Minas Tirith." He stared at me for a moment, then shook his head incredulously.

"When were you going to inform me," he sighed as we started out.

"I just did," I pointed out. He shot me a look. "Look, Boromir, you know there are things I can't tell you. But I will explain everything as soon as I am able. You just have to trust me. Everything is under control," I said with a wink.

I hoped he believed that. One of us needed to.


	25. The Golden Boy Returns

We were in sight of Minas Tirith now. It was everything Boromir had described it as. Now that we were so close, I insisted we stop so I could clean up. I was going to be meeting a very powerful man today, and needed to impress him as much as I could, which meant I needed to look every bit the regal seer. So, as I had in Lorien, I scrubbed my face pink and put on a clean black riding dress I had received in Rohan. Boromir, to my surprise, followed my lead, and when we remounted, he was every bit the Lord of Gondor.

As we drew closer, I heard trumpet calls coming from the city, and I looked questioningly at Boromir. He seemed to be basking in the moment, his chin high and a slight smile on his face. "They are signaling that a Lord of Gondor has returned."

We came to the Gates of the City, and guardsmen shouted at us in welcome. "My Lord Boromir has returned!" "Welcome home, my Lord!" The murmurs and welcome continued as we ascended the levels of the city, climbing higher and higher to the Tower of Ecthelion. We stopped at a stable and dismounted, Boromir greeting some of the men there. I hung back, unsure of what I was supposed to do. Eventually, we made it to the Tower, and I caught my first glimpse of the White Tree of Gondor.

I stopped as we reached the doors. "Game on," I muttered, stealing myself. The guards pushed to doors open, and we entered.

The first thing I thought when I saw the thrones was how silly and dangerous it was to have so many steps up to the King's Throne. I wondered if any of them had ever fallen off, and the thought relaxed me.

I turned to Denethor, who had risen and had taken his son in his arms, clearly fighting back tears. I stayed back, letting them have their moment. Whatever my thoughts may be on the man, he was Boromir's father. Finally, they turned to me.

"And who is this lovely lady," Denethor asked with a smile. I plastered a smile on my face, suddenly realizing that he wasn't the snake he had been portrayed in the stories. He was charming and warm, and that made him a thousand times more dangerous.

"Father, I present to you Lady Rose." I strode forward and curtsied as best as I could. I still hadn't managed to learn how to, but it seemed to please Denethor.

"And how did you and this beautiful lady become traveling companions," Denethor inquired as he sized me up. Evidently, I wasn't deemed a threat, because he quickly turned his attention to Boromir.

"She is a member of the Fellowship of the Ring," Boromir said. "She is a Seer of unmatched power…and my betrothed." I don't know who was more surprised, Denethor or me. Boromir shot me a look that clearly said "just go with it", so I did the only thing I could do.

I smiled and bat my eyelashes at Boromir, and played on fatherly pride."Your son is quite the charmer," I said with a smile. "It's clear who he gets it from." I sent up a quick prayer to any listening god that he would accept it.

Evidently, someone was listening. Denethor's smile widened, and he clapped his son's shoulder. "As charming as she is lovely. If she is truly a Seer as you say, you could not have made a better match. You have my blessing, son." Denethor pulled me forward and kissed both my cheeks, saying, "You remind me of my late wife. It is only fitting that you have her ring. She would have wanted you to have it. I will have it brought from the vaults."

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing, just smiled as hard as I could. I wasn't sure where Boromir was going with this, but I had to trust him as he had trusted me.

"Now, you must excuse my manners. My son and I have much to speak of," Denethor said, smiling warmly at me. Boromir and I exchanged a glance as his father returned to his throne.

"Rose should be here as well, Father. She was one of the Ring's escorts. She has proven invaluable to our quest." I eyed Denethor warily. I could see the indecision in his eyes, but his smile never wavered. Still, it was obvious when his Steward mask slipped into place.

"I see. I trust my son's judgement." He turned to Boromir. "You have not brought me the Ring." It sounded almost like a condemnation.

"The Ring was evil, Father. Even in the short while I was near it, I could feel its power. No good could have come of it." Denethor was not appeased. "It is beyond our hands now."

"Then you have doomed us all." The words were like a slap in the face. Gone was the warm father and kindly Steward.

"No." I stepped forward, ignoring the warning look Boromir shot me. "My Lord, there is much hope. But Gondor needs her defenses."

At this point, I was completely winging it. Nothing was going to plan. If this man was insane, it was buried deeply. He would never give up authority. My best hope now was to manipulate him into doing as I wished. But I had read how intelligent he was. Even Gandalf was wary of him. I recalled him telling Pippin, _"He is not as other men of this time…by some chance the blood of Westernesse runs nearly true in him, as it does in his other son, Faramir, and yet did not in Boromir. He has long sight. He can perceive, if he bends his will thither, much of what is passing in the minds of men, even of those that dwell far off. It is difficult to deceive him, and dangerous to try."_ Still, I had to do my best.

"Then you know nothing. Hope is lost, I have seen it," Denethor said coldly.

"In your palantir," I returned icily. That seemed to get Denethor's attention. "It is dangerous to use such methods when their messages can be so easily manipulated."

When he looked at me, I could see the cold and calculating man hiding behind his eyes. And I knew he could read more than my words when he looked at me. "And what would you know of such things?" It was just shy of being an accusation.

"I see more than you know, Denethor, son of Ecthelion. And you are not the only one to have been manipulated by the palantir. Saruman was driven mad by it. What he saw were lies, as well."

"What proof do you have of this," he challenged. "Osgiliath has fallen, and all signs now point to a certain defeat."

"Peregrin Took also looked into the palantir, and he saw someone that he did not expect," I said, the implications clear. "I do not try to deceive you, Steward, as you can well read in me." He eyed me warily. "Yes, I know of your many skills. I come to you now at the turning of the tide." I hoped Gandalf wouldn't mind me borrowing his line. "Osgiliath has been overrun, and Faramir will return tomorrow wounded and near death, but alive. The Beacons of Minas Tirith have been lit, and even now the armies of the West ride to your aid, Denethor. In two days, the armies of Mordor will be at your door and the Siege of Minas Tirith will begin." I met his eyes dead on.

Denethor's eyes flicked behind me to Boromir. I don't know what he read there, but a smile flickered across his face. "You have chosen wisely, Boromir." I didn't quite trust Denethor, but I had played my cards, though I did not believe for a second that I had won.

I inclined my head to Denethor. "Please excuse me, my Lords, for I must speak with the White Wizard." I turned, but paused by Boromir, my voice low as I warned him. "Mordor's siege engine will be here in two days. Do what you can." And with that, I strode out of the throne room without a backwards glance.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

I knocked on the door and it swung open, revealing an irritated wizard. "You've been busy," I commented dryly as I swept past him into the room.

"As have you," he replied pointedly. "Minas Tirith is buzzing about Boromir's mysterious betrothed."

I walked out to the balcony and took in the red view of Mordor in the distance. "Yes, well, it came as a surprise to me as well. I don't know who was more shocked, me or Denethor. I can only trust that Boromir had a good reason for it." I turned to him. "Did Pippin pledge himself to Denethor?"

Gandalf nodded, eyeing me speculatively. "Evidently you told him to let Denethor believe his son was dead. He did as you asked, and is now pledged to the Steward. I can only trust you had some good reason for this."

"I did, but much has changed. Denethor was supposed to be mad with grief, but that is not the impression I got when we spoke."

"Don't let his mask fool you. His madness lurks below the surface." He looked at me, then. "You have changed much since the frightened, insecure child I met in Imladris. She would have been no match for one so formidable as Denethor."

I didn't say anything, and for a long while, we stared out across Pelennor fields.

"This waiting is killing me," I murmured. It was as though I had carefully set up dominos, and I was holding my breath, waiting to see if they would fall as I wanted them to. Gandalf said nothing, and I rose from my perch on the railing. "I'm going to find Boromir."

I was waylaid on my hunt by a maid with instructions to take me to the room I would be staying in. It was in the section housing the Stewards family, and evidently next to Boromir's suite (I had made a point to ask). I was a little overwhelmed at the grandeur of the room, and picked at my black linen dress uncomfortably. If I were going to play Boromir's betrothed, I should probably look the part.

I scrubbed myself clean and pinned my hair away from my face, and changed into a soft lavender dress I found in the closet. It reminded me of the dress Liv Tyler had worn in the movies, though I picked it mostly because it was the only thing in the closet that didn't look like it required an instruction manual. The night was getting cold, and I was relieved to find a cloak in the closet. It was dark blue and velvet, and the white tree of Gondor was embroidered on the back. Comfortable and clean again, I left the room.

It took me a while, but I did eventually track him down. He was in some sort of barracks, directing men in what I could only assume were siege preparations. For a moment, I leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, just observing him in what was clearly his natural state. Clearly he had taken the opportunity to clean up as well, because he was clean shaven and, for once, he wasn't wearing any form of armor. The White Tree bloomed proudly on his chest, and he looked more at home than I had ever seen him. He was beautiful to me.

"Excuse me, my lady." I stepped out of the way and finally drew Boromir's attention. He smiled at me and held out his hand. I returned his smile and went to him, kissing his cheek.

"I never thought I would be so happy to see a woman in Gondor's colors," he said quietly, fingering the soft material of the cloak. "They suit you."

"Not that you're biased," I said dryly, though I smiled to acknowledge the compliment. "I've never seen you without armor."

"You've rarely seen me in a place I was comfortable enough not to need it," he pointed out. "Even in Lorien, the elves made me…uncomfortable."

"Me, too," I said softly, thinking of Galadriel. "So, we're betrothed, are we?" I raised an eyebrow at him. "Were you going to tell me at some point, or let me find out on our wedding day?"

He grimaced slightly, then sighed. "I have asked Aragorn for your hand, and he has given his blessing. I had intended to ask you, but it never seemed the right time. When we saw my father, I realized time had run out, and we needed him to accept you." He dug pulled out a small pouch from his waist that I had assumed was a coinpurse. He opened it, and a small ring fell out onto his hand. Until then, I had thought the engagement was a ruse. I looked up at him in shock. "Rose, will you marry me?"

I had expected some huge battle in my head, but when he asked the question, I knew there was only one answer. It was as natural as breathing. "I will marry you, Boromir of Gondor."

He smiled at me, and slipped the ring onto my finger. "It's my mother's ring." I was surprised that it fit perfectly, and my shock must have shown on my face. "I took one of your gloves and had the jeweler size the ring. You have smaller hands than my mother."

I smiled and kissed him. "It's lovely." A throat being cleared drew our attention, and we looked up to see a soldier.

"I apologize for interrupting, but you are needed, my Lord," the man said awkwardly.

"Proceed," Boromir commanded, turning to him. The man rattled away some problem, but used too many technical terms, and I didn't understand it. Boromir didn't skip a beat, but rattled off an equally technical solution. As the man left, Boromir turned back to me. "I need to continue preparations. My father has left too much undone, and Gondor's defenses are not what they should be. May I see you when I finish?"

"Actually, I can be of some use here," I said, turning my attention to the maps. "I know some of the tactics the enemy will be using." There was no way to describe the look of Boromir's face. It was somewhere between shock, awe, and relief. I almost laughed. "Don't look so surprised. This is what I'm here for. Ok, let's get started."

It was slow going at first, as we poured over the maps. I realized with frustration that my magical ability to understand Common did not include being able to read or write it. Everything I tried to write down was in English. Instead, I simply told him everything about the battle that I remembered, and let him write down what he thought he needed to. I was finally free to be completely open about everything I knew, including Aragorn and the army of betrayers, because everyone had already been set on their paths. Here, finally, I was real help. My presence and active participation in planning drew many looks from the soldiers passing through, but they didn't comment.

Conversation made me look up from the list I was writing (ideas I would have to read aloud to Boromir). At some point during the night, the room had cleared and I had gotten accustomed to the quiet, and it seemed new shifts of men were beginning to enter the hall. Through the window, I saw grey dawn beginning to lighten the sky. It seemed we had worked through the night and been up for 24 hours, after several days' hard travel.

I stood up and stretched, then shook out my cramping hand. Quills were different than pens, and it had taken me several false starts before I had been able to write legibly. The first thing I was inventing was going to be a pencil. Boromir was sitting on the far end of the table, his head in his hands as he poured over yet another map.

I walked over to him and began to rub his shoulders. He leaned back against me and closed his eyes. "Boromir, let's get some breakfast and go to bed. We're both exhausted, and you'll be useless to anyone if you don't get some sleep." That he didn't argue was testament that he was as worn out as I was. Instead, he stood and we gathered our cloaks from the chair where we had dumped them earlier.

The air was clean and cold, our breath fogging as we walked. I suddenly regretted the thin dress I had chosen. My body still had not adjusted to the cold of Middle Earth and I shivered, pulling the hood of my cloak over my head. Boromir, evidently unfazed by the cold, put his arm over my shoulders and drew me closer into his warmth. I smiled gratefully up at him. "At least it's not as bad as Caradhras," I murmured. Even though it had only been a few months since I'd nearly frozen to death on the mountain, it seemed like years. Stupid evil mountains.

Boromir led me to the kitchens. Apparently, he was a frequent visitor, as the staff, many of them older women, treated him like a favorite son. They fussed over us and we both received hugs and kisses. They twittered about how skinny we both were, and kept bringing hot food and drink. By the time we left, we were stuffed and warm.

I patted my stomach happily as we entered the Royal Quarters. "I think I have a food baby." He snorted with laughter. "Don't mock. Looks like you might have one, too," I said, poking his side teasingly.

He laughed. "You aren't supposed to comment on a gentleman's paunch."

"Pft, there isn't an ounce of fat on you, and you know it. You're just fishing for—" I broke off on a massive, eye watering yawn. Boromir's yawn was even bigger than mine. (I bet you're fighting a yawn right now! Just TRY not to.)

"Alright, to bed for both of us. If you are up first, wake me, please." He nodded and I kissed his cheek before slipping into my own room. I stripped off my clothes and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.


	26. Where things go wrong

There was a loud knocking on the door, and I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head to stifle the noise. I heard the door open and steps, but I wasn't awake enough to care.

"Rose," came Boromir's gruff voice.

"Snirk." I felt him get into the bed with me, and lay at my back. He wrapped an arm over my waist and kissed my head. "No, I don't wanna get up," I groaned. He smiled into my hair.

"I'm glad to see some things haven't changed," he murmured. I sighed, kissed his jaw, and rolled onto my back to see him. "You sleep naked?"

"Sometimes. I was too tired to bother with nightclothes this morning." I touched the jewel at his throat and smiled. "You're still wearing my necklace." I ran my thumb over the face of it. "It will keep you safe, and bring you back to me."

"Nothing could keep me from you, Love." He kissed me and rolled on top of me, the weight of him pushing me into the mattress. He started kissing my neck.

"If you start that, we're never going to get anything done," I murmured, though my arched neck belied my words. I gasped and stiffened suddenly as an icy wind blew on me, more effective than a cold shower. "Holy ice buckets, batman!" I squirmed out from under him and he groaned in frustration.

Hopping out of bed, I hurried to the velvet robe I had seen hanging in the closet the night before, and wrapped it around me against the cold. He watched as I got dressed. I washed my face in the basin and brushed my hair before grabbing a dress from the wardrobe. As I slipped it over my head, I was relieved to see it was long sleeved and had a collar. "Can you do me up," I asked as I walked back to the bed and turned my back to him, lifting my hair out of the way so he could fasten the buttons. His hands were warm at my back.

"What preparations are left," I asked as he buttoned me up.

"Too many to count. The armies across Gondor have been summoned, but won't get here in time." He finished the buttons and I turned to face him, searching with my feet for the boots I had kicked off that morning.

"Aragorn has met the Dunedain by now," I said, giving up and getting on my hands and knees to look under the bed. "And with the army of the dead, he has taken the Corsair ships. Theoden is camped in the Druadan forest." Shoes in hand, I shimmied back out to find Boromir watching me. "What?"

"I've just never met a woman who could speak of armies and battle while groping under the bed," he said with a raised eyebrow.

"I doubt very much that there are other women like me," I told the eyebrow as I finished with my shoes and stood. "Alright, let's get to it." I grabbed the blue cloak from the chair and swung it around my shoulders.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

I stood on the wall surrounding the city. Boromir had left with his captains to survey something or other, and I had come here to think. I watched as a lone rider crossed the fields from Osgiliath, but was too distracted to think anything of it. What was I going to do tomorrow when the siege began?

A cry from the guard drew my attention, and I followed his gaze down to the rider. "Oh, God, Faramir," I said. I couldn't believe I had forgotten about him. I whirled and flew down the stairs to meet him.

By the time I reached him, he was being placed on a stretcher and taken to Denethor. "WAIT!" A guardsman following the stretcher turned to me as I caught up to him. "Don't take him to Denethor, take him to the Halls of Healing. He's still alive!"

"Miss, step back," the guardsman said, ignoring me.

"No, wait!" They continued ignoring me. I followed them to the Throne room, where they laid him beside the White Tree. A guard ran in to get Denethor.

As soon as he was down, I put my fingers on his neck to check for a pulse, glaring down a guard who moved to stop me. Faramir's pulse was weak and slow, but it was there. "He must be in shock," I said out loud as Pippin raced forward with Denethor. I glanced at Pippin. "He's alive, but only barely. He needs to be taken to a healer."

I turned to see Denethor stumbling about, lost in grief and guilt. He stumbled to the railing, and froze as he saw the vast army spread against his doorstep. I froze as I heard the distant thwang of catapults in the distance. I rushed to Denethor's side, looking in horror as the siege began.

"It's too soon," I breathed. This reality was supposed to follow the books! The siege wasn't supposed to start until tomorrow!

"Rohan has abandoned us," Denethor whispered. "Theoden has betrayed me." I could see the madness building in his eyes, and tried to calm him.

"Theoden has not betrayed you, Denethor!" The Steward turned to me and shoved me to the ground. A guard rushed over to help me.

"You know nothing," he roared as I clambered to my feet. He turned back to the view, and opened his mouth to order everyone to abandon their posts. Seeing no other option, I did what any red blooded American woman would do; I punched the shit out of him.

"JESUS H. ROOSEVELT CHRIST!" I shook my hand as Denethor fell to the ground. "Why do guys LIKE this? This freakin' HURTS!" I secretly thanked my brothers for teaching me to fight so many years ago. As Denethor tried to get up, I put him in an arm bar, choking him just long enough that he passed out. I looked up to see the Guards too stunned to react. "In-laws, am I right," I said sheepishly. Unsure what to do, I shoved Denethor's unconscious body to the guard who had run to my aid.

"Lord Boromir is in charge now," I said with all the authority I could muster. Hadn't someone said it's all about confidence? "On his authority, I order you to arrest Denethor for treason, and to take Faramir to a healer, then return to your posts." They didn't move, clearly unsure if they should listen to me. "You have your orders, now go!" I roared. They scattered, and I enjoyed a split second of satisfaction.

"Pippin, with me!" To my surprise, he followed my orders and fell into step at my side. "I need armor, and I need my weapons." He nodded and ran off. "You," I said, pointing at another guard. He too fell into step with me as we descended the stairs. I held up my skirt, figuring now wasn't the time to trip and fall down stairs. "Find Lord Boromir and tell him what has happened, and that he is in charge now." He nodded and started to run off, but I grabbed his arm. "Maybe leave out the part where I choked his father unconscious."

We reached the next level, and Pippin caught up with me. I stopped walking to put on the leather armor, a guard behind me helping me with the ties. "You have your own sword," I asked Pippin as I finished adjusting the jerkin and took my own swords from Pippin. He nodded as I strapped the belt around my waist. "Go find Gandalf and tell him what has happened. He should be close. Try the stable. He'll be looking for Shadowfax." He ran off again. I checked my swords and noticed a few guards still following. "Oh…Uh…Spread the word to prepare for battle!"

The Houses of Healing were on the sixth level, and I found my way to them. "Where is Ioreth," I inquired of a passing nurse. She pointed at a pretty older woman tending Faramir. I nodded at the nurse and went to speak to Ioreth. "You are the head healer here," I said. She looked up from Faramir and nodded, though it hadn't been a question.

"And who are you," she asked, obviously unimpressed with me.

"I'm Rose, Boromir's fiancé." I didn't wait for her acknowledgement. "The city is under siege, and you are about to be flooded with wounded. Do you have all the supplies you need?"

She eyed me for a moment before answering. "No, not for a siege. We'll need more bandages, more herbs, and more staff."

I grabbed a passing page boy. "Find the Herb Master, and tell him to bring his entire supply of Athelas, as well as any bandages or medical supplies he might have." He set off at a walk. "Quickly now," I said, and he took off at a run. I turned back to Ioreth. "I will send someone for more bandages. Prepare yourself and your staff. I will do my best to return after the battle. And remember, it is of VITAL importance that he stays alive," I said, pointing to Faramir. She nodded, and I started to leave.

"Milady," she called. I turned to look at her. "I'm glad to see Boromir's chosen a woman made of sterner stuff than those air headed court girls." I smiled at her.

"I'll look forward to seeing you again, Ioreth."

As I was leaving, I nearly tripped over the hem of my skirt. I cursed the dress and petticoats loudly in English, wishing I had pants. My cursing drew the attention of a passing page. "Are you Lady Rose?" I looked up to see a boy no older than 10 or 11.

"I am. Do you have a knife?" He handed it to me, and watched as I began to cut off the bottom of my dress.

"Lord Boromir sent me with a message for you. He said he wants you to take some guards and stay inside your quarters where it's safe."

"Well, he's old enough that his wants won't hurt him," I said, cutting through the last few layers of petticoat. I handed the knife back to him, and admired my handiwork. My skirt brushed the tops of my boots. Well, parts of it did, anyway. "Tell Boromir that there's no way in Hell that's going to happen."

"He said you would say that, and if that were the case, I was to bring you to him."

"So he thinks he can boss me around, does he? Well, we'll just see about that, won't we?" I said, fully intending on giving Boromir a piece of my mind.

"He said you'd say that, too," added the boy, "but that you would come anyway." I opened my mouth in outrage, then snapped it closed again.

"I hate it when he knows me better than I do," I muttered, following the page. He began to lead a winding path through the city, to the Great Wall. The siege was well under way. We made it to the first level before we were waylaid by fighting. I shoved one of my swords into boys hands and shoved him into an alcove. "Take this and stay here," I shouted, joining the fray.

I stabbed an Uruk in the neck as he fought an outnumbered soldier. I blocked as another Uruk swung at me, the shock going up my arm, but we were already swinging again. I threw myself onto my knee and thrust my sword into his stomach beneath his armor. Not missing a beat, I swung my sword hard enough to cut off the leg of another Uruk. I'd picked up a few things at Helm's Deep. I stood and found myself back to back with a soldier.

I fought viciously. I had no shield and no second sword to block, which meant I had to anticipate their moves. I made up for the disadvantage by using the added power using both hands gave me with the one sword. I swung hard and decapitated an orc. In the reflection of a fallen shield, I saw another coming at me from behind, and used my moment to fall to my knees and thrust my sword under my arms beside me, letting the orc impale himself on the blade

"I couldn't do that again in a million years," I muttered, wrenching my sword free of his stomach.

I turned to see an orc bearing down on the boy, who held the sword out bravely, if shakily. I leapt over a body and stabbed the orc beneath his arm as he raised his own sword. I grabbed the boy as the body hit the ground. It was only then that I realized how completely unarmed he was. Turning, I grabbed an abandoned helm, nearly vomiting as the head of its previous owner slid out. I shoved it at the page. He looked at me in horror. "Put it on," I yelled over the deafening sounds of battle. When he shook his head, I grabbed his shirt collar and shoved the helmet on his head with my free hand. "Now take me to Boromir!"

I stopped many more times to lend a hand before we eventually reached Boromir. But reach him we did. I cut the arm off an Uruk coming at Boromir from behind and shoved it off the wall. I blinked as I saw Boromir headbutt an orc hard enough to knock it unconscious. "Boromir!"

He turned and saw me behind him. He grabbed me by the back of the neck. "Stubborn woman! WHY can't you do as I ask just ONCE," he growled in frustration before kissing me hard. "Stay behind me," he yelled, releasing me to stab an orc.

We fought like that for what seemed like an eternity. I could see oliphants on the fields in front of us.

Suddenly, my arm went dead and cold and I dropped my sword, clutching my shoulder where the Nazgul had stabbed me so long ago. I fell to my knees. An unearthly shriek pierced the air, and everyone cowered as the Witch King descended upon us. I watched as he spoke the words of power, and the Gates to the City shattered.

Dazed, I grabbed my sword and blocked the swing of an orc sword. I was slow and weak, and only barely managed to keep him from decapitating me. His blade cut through my armor, slicing deeply across my chest. The pain ended up saving me, pulling me out of my fog. I rammed my sword into his throat, and watched as he fell over the ledge.

The Rohirrim were charging onto the battlefield, and suddenly the Witch King was gone. I looked at Boromir, then at the city below. There were families in the lower levels, women and children who needed defending. Now that the Gates had been broken, I would be more use down there. I spared a glance at Boromir, before turning and running down the stairs.

I reached the lower level and threw myself into battle. The orcs and Uruk-Hai were pouring forth, and the men were greatly outnumbered. I slit an orcs throat and stabbed another in the throat in the same swing. I attacked violently, but there were simply too many. I killed one, and another was in his place before the body hit the ground. I found myself being surrounded. I caught sight of a group of soldiers, and I fought my way to them. They were in a circle, keeping their backs to each other as they fought for their lives. I stabbed an Uruk, then hurled myself to the ground as a sword swung where my head had been. I landed at the feet of a soldier and stood, joining their circle.

Eventually, the flow of orc and Uruk-Hai became a trickle, then stopped when Aragorn's army of ghosts flooded the city. We found ourselves hunting down remaining clusters of Uruk-Hai, checking houses and alleys. It was in one of these that I was brought down.

I heard a scream from a dwelling. "Here," I yelled at the other men in my party before busting through the door, a guard hot on my heels. Two kids were cowering behind their mother as she shrieked her head off and hit an orc with a butcher knife. I stabbed the orc in the back of the neck, killing him instantly. He was sliding to the floor when the woman stabbed me.

For a moment, we both froze in shock. She released the knife and covered her mouth in horror. I stared at the knife in my side in disbelief, and said the first thing that came to my mind as I sank to the floor and began to pass out.

"Son of a _BITCH_."


	27. The Escape Artist

I woke with a start.

Disoriented and bewildered, I looked around and tried to sit up. The pain that ripped through my side startled me, and I looked down to find myself clean and wearing some sort of satin nightgown. Clearly, someone had taken care to bathe me, since even my hair was clean again. I looked again at the unfamiliar surroundings. Where was I? Where was Boromir?

It was night, as I saw as I glanced out the window to a garden. But on what day? I felt as though I had been asleep for weeks. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I slowly crawled out of the bed. I stood there for a moment, dizziness and nausea sweeping through me. For a moment, it was all I could do to stay on my feet. When it passed, though, I forced myself to the basin and small mirror I saw resting beside it. I picked up the small mirror and lifted the hem of the dress to my chest.

Memory came rushing back like a blast of cold water as I saw the long, neat line of stitches running up my side. I frowned when I saw just how long it the wound was. The knife I had been stabbed with had been sharp and long, but not wide enough to warrant almost a foot of stitches. Stitches that were at least a few days old, judging by the healing. I let the nightgown fall back to my feet and set the mirror down. At least now I could safely assume that I was in the Houses of Healing. I scanned the room again with my eyes, and my eyes rested on a long piece of parchment pinned to the door. I studied it, gritting my teeth in frustration that I couldn't read the strange little symbols. Seeing no other option, I unpinned the paper and rolled it up to carry it with me. Maybe I could find someone to read it for me.

I carefully, painfully opened the door to my small room and crept out, finding myself now in a garden. Still holding my side, I walked to what I could see was the edge of the 6th level, and looked out over the city and fields. Where was everyone? It seemed the city had emptied, leaving what seemed only a handful of guards along the Great Wall. Had I been asleep for so long that the Host of the West had already left for Mordor? Surely a flesh wound had not left me unconscious for that long. I fought the panic that was starting to rise in me. I wished desperately that I could shake the drugged fog that permeated and slowed my mind. It must be residual effects from some sort of sedative or pain killer.

From the moon, I could tell that it was very early in the morning, probably only a little before dawn. I wished there were someone around that I could pelt with questions, but I was alone. At least the walking had loosened away some of the stiffness in my side. I was able to walk a little straighter now, and went to hunt someone down. Someone was going to give me answers.

Seeing Minas Tirith so empty was starting to give me the creeps, and I found myself longing for my swords as I walked. Though there was no apparent threat, I was wounded badly, and being without them made me feel naked. After maybe an hour of searching, though, I found someone.

"Miss, wait!"

The little woman turned around, eyeing me with surprise. I assumed by what looked like a uniform that she was either a healer or an assistant. "Now, what're you doin' out of bed so late?" She had what I presumed was a country accent. Maybe she was from one of Gondor's provinces.

"Please, can you help me? Can you read this to me," I asked, holding out the paper to her. She frowned and took it, unfolding it. "I've been asleep, and I'm a little confused."

"'Rose of Rivendell'," she read. I smiled a little at that, knowing one of the Fellowship must have done that. She continued to scan it, and I was growing impatient. "Hmm….it says here that you were stabbed in the midsection, and that the knife hit some internal organs, requiring surgery." That explained the long wound then. "It seems you lost so much blood that they decided to keep you asleep for a few days." She clicked her tongue at that, handing it back to me. "It must have been a great deal of blood indeed, if they went to those measures."

"What do you mean," I asked warily.

"Sleeping droughts are dangerous and hard to predict. If they had you on it for days, you must have been a breath away from dyin'."

I was frozen for a moment, looking down at the paper rolled in my hand. I recognize the feeling coursing through me, somewhere between shock and horror. I slammed the lid shut on the emotion, though._ Breathe, Rose,_ I told myself. _Focus_.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Not long enough," she said, clucking at me. "You're still white as a sheet."

"How. Long." I said the words slowly and deliberately, warning in my voice. She looked startled, then flustered as she answered.

"Five days." She looked in alarm as I felt all the blood drain from my face, and I sat down hard on the bench. "Are you alright, lass?"

"They left without me," I breathed. "If orcs don't kill him, I'll do the job myself!"

"Who," the woman twittered nervously.

"All of them," I hissed.

She looked alarmed. "Let's get you back to bed. Are you hungry? I'll bring you some food." I was tired and weak, so I nodded and let her help me back to bed. She tucked me in and left to scrounge up some food.

As I ate, the fog began to subside, and I found myself pondering my options. I let myself entertain the idea of staying here. My body clearly hadn't had time to replace all the blood I had lost, and I was still shaky and weak. And the thought of reopening my wounds was less than appealing. Really, though, I was just scared.

Battle was terrifying. So far, I had survived mostly on luck, but who knew how long that would hold out. Every time before that I had fought, I had been given no choice, no time to think about it. It had been clear what I had to do, so I had let myself get swept away, not letting myself psych myself out. But now, Eomer's words to Eowyn played through my mind: "When the fear takes him, and the blood and the screams and the horror of battle take hold, do you think he would stand and fight? He would flee, and he would be right to do so. War is the province of men." That didn't even begin to compare. Battle was like all the worst moments in your life, all of your fears, rolled into one event. It paralyzed you with fear, but you had to fight through it. It was so big, you couldn't ever really wrap your mind around it, like trying to envision the whole of the universe. I didn't know how Boromir had made a career of it.

Boromir. My chest tightened at the thought of him, of him dying in battle so far from me, of looking at a life without him. Maybe I was a romantic, but I knew this love was fated. This was the epic love of legend, of Beren and Luthien. I think I had known it for a long time that our meeting was mere chance. I don't know when I had stopped believing that I had simply drawn the short straw to be sent here. And yet again, I found myself without a choice. I had been sent here to save the Captain of the White Tower. I would do it, or die trying.

I knew that the chances of me surviving were minute; even if I didn't open my wounds and bleed out on the way to him, battle would be next to impossible given how weak I was. Still, even if I couldn't see him through the battle, I could do the next best thing; I could warn him of everything he would have to face.

I crawled out of bed with a renewed sense of purpose, ignoring as my stomach burned with pain. I had neither shoes nor weapons, so I padded barefoot out of the Houses of Healing and through the streets of Minas Tirith, dressed only in the nightgown. The men guarding the Stewards' living quarters gave me strange looks, but recognized me enough to let me through. I pushed open the door to my quarters, pausing as I saw the bed. The memory of the last time we had been there swept through me.

I pushed it from my mind, just another thing I wouldn't let myself think about. Pushing the wardrobe open, I searched through it, really paying attention to everything for the first time. There had to be something in here sturdy enough for hard travel and battle. But this was the closet of a pampered princess, and there was nothing practical in there. I ran my fingers through my hair, frustrated. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something that made me stop. Letting my hand fall to my side, I walked over to the chair in the corner, not quite trusting my eyes.

It was my black dress, washed and repaired. Some maid must have left it here. I ran my hands along the soft black fabric. It seemed fitting. I had worn this dress when I had first arrived in Middle Earth, all the way back at the Prancing Pony Inn. I smiled as I remembered how irritated I was at having to wear the dress at all. Now it was an old friend, one who had traveled all the way from Bree with me, and would now take me to Sauron's front door. I had come to Middle Earth in this dress; it was only right that I leave it the same way.

Slowly, I dressed: Pulling on the leggings, lacing up the dress, slipping on the elves' sturdy black boots, pulling on the long soft riding gloves. I remembered Boromir had stolen one of them to get my engagement ring sized.

I grabbed my small Elvin swords from where they leaned against the wall next to my small pack. The one I had lent to the page had been sent back to me, for there they both were, Aragorn's gift to me in Rivendell. I picked them up and slung the pack over my shoulder.

I stopped in Boromir's room before I left. I touched the book he had left on a nightstand, ran my hand across his bedspread. Everywhere in this room were signs of Boromir, from the heirloom swords on the wall to the maps spread across a table. In his closet, I inhaled his scent, that unique mix of forest and metal and man. I wished once again that I could leave some sort of note for him, but he wouldn't be able to read it.

After a moment, I shook myself. "Enough," I said decisively. I had wasted enough time. I took one of the maps and shoved it in my bag so I would know where I was going.

I walked down to the stables on the sixth level. I woke a sleeping stable boy. "I need the fastest horse in this stable." As he set about it, I went to the kitchens and tucked some food into my bag. I returned to find the boy waiting for me with a huge black stallion. I was no great shakes at riding yet, and fought against the intimidation that the horse inspired. He would be difficult to handle. "Do you know his name," I asked as the boy attached my pack to the saddle.

"Bruidal," he said. I bit back a smile, some of my fear abating at the ridiculous name. I took a leaf from Aragorn's book, trying to get the horse to like me.

I gently stroked his face. "Bruidal. Your name means 'noisy foot'," I whispered in English. The horse butted me gently with its head. "Yeah, I didn't choose my name either." The boy gave me a leg up into the saddle, and I tried not to notice how far off the ground I was. That would be a long fall.

I rode through the streets quickly, Bruidal living up to his name as we swept passed through the silent city. As we passed through the makeshift Gates of the City, I turned and looked at it one last time. Dawn had come, and the city seemed to glow in the sunlight, impressive in its majesty. I was overcome with pride at the city that had overcome so much. I kissed my fingers and held it out to the city, a small recognition and a goodbye.

Then I turned Bruidal, and we began flying over the fields, his giant legs eating up the ground fast enough to send my hair whipping behind me. I ignored the brutal pain in my sides and held on tight, grabbing some of the giant's mane as I clutched the reins. The Host had almost a full day on me, but 7,000 men move slowly, whereas I was a lone rider on a fast horse. If my math was right, and if nothing had changed, they would be at the Morgul Vale.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

It was night when I found the camp. I rode Bruinal at a trot passed the tents, slowing only when I found soldiers wearing the White Tree. "You there. Yes you. Where are the commanders?"

The greasy soldier leered at me, grabbing Bruinal's bridle. "Come down and I'll introduce you to MY commander." He made a vulgar gesture. I was too tired and in too much pain to bother with this. I rolled my eyes and unsheathed my sword, bringing it to his neck.

"Let's try this again. I am the ward of King Elessar, and betrothed to the Captain of the White Tower." I let that sink in, not bothering to remove my sword from his neck. "That makes me pretty damn important, doesn't it?" It wasn't really a question, but I waited for his nod. "Now, where are Lord Boromir and the King?"

"They are in the King's Tent. You'll know it when you see it," he spat. I smiled at him.

"Good boy. Now, are you going to release my horse willingly, or will I have to get my sword bloody again?" I had no intention of hurting the man, but I didn't want him to know that, so I pressed my sword just the tiniest bit into his neck. He released the bridle, and I sheathed my sword. "Thank you."

It was easy to spot the King's tent. A soldier took the reins of my horse, and I jumped off, then nearly passed out as a wave of pain and dizziness swept through me. A full day of riding had worn me out, and I couldn't help clutching my side, wondering if I had pulled stitches at some point? I shook my head to clear it, thanked the soldier, and entered the tent to find them in a meeting. I recognized Boromir, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Pippin, Eomer, and Gandalf, but the rest were unfamiliar to me. I could guess who they were, though.

Legolas noticed me first. "Mae Govannen." He sounded surprised.

"You look terrible, lassy," Gimli said by way of greeting.

"Good to see you, too, Gimli."

"What are you doing here, Rose? You almost died. You shouldn't even be out of bed, let alone campaigning," Aragorn said with a frown, noticing that I still held a hand to my side. I forced my hand to fall.

"I almost stayed," I confessed with a shrug. "But then I realized that I was needed here." Boromir looked like he was about to pop a vein in his head as he stared at me. By his expression, I knew I was going to get an earful when if he got me alone. "I'm fine," I said again, this time to him. "The Gods gave me a task, and I'm here to complete it." There wasn't much he could say to that.

I was wrong.

He strode over and grabbed me by the shoulders. I bit back a curse as the jerk pulled at my stitches. "You are NOT doing this again, you stubborn woman," he snapped, his eyes blazing. "First, you leave my sight in the middle of a siege. Then some idiot page tells me you had been slaughtered. I lose my senses, imagining you being torn to pieces by an orc."

I couldn't help smiling. "Your accent gets REALLY thick when you're mad."

He ignored me. _"THEN_, I find out you managed to survive the entire battle, only to let some imbecile stab you with a butcher knife. When I finally find you, you have the nerve to be unconscious, white as death, covered in blood, with a Gods-loving CLEAVER sticking out of you. I'm going out of my mind with worry, the healers saying that you probably would not live through the night."

I struck a pose. "Draw me like one of your French girls."

"But then you do, and I think, 'At last, I do not have to worry about her. She is surrounded by healers, and surely she has enough sense to stay and recover when she wakes.' But no, you could not do that, could you?"

I flared my eyes in what I hoped was a sexy come-hither look. "Tell it to me, Tiger."

"No, you decide that you would throw your life away. You had to ride all the way to the Morgul Vale – alone, I might add – with enemies everywhere, and have the nerve to look calm? Nay, AMUSED! I've a mind to flog you myself!"

I purred at him.

He stared at me for a moment, then deflated and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Cease teasing me, woman. At this rate, I won't live to see my next name day." I grinned at him.

"Ye Gods," I heard someone say. I glanced past Boromir to catch the men listening to us. "I did not believe it when I heard. I've seen my nephew make seasoned warriors quake in their boots," continued a tall raven-haired man in the company. "It seems Boromir the Fair has finally met his match." I smiled at him, guessing who he was.

"You are Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, Commander of the Swan Knights."

He smiled and bowed. "So I am. And you are the mysterious lady rumored to have the Sight."

I didn't bother lying to him. I knew he was one of the good guys. "I see my reputation precedes me."

"Yet it does you no justice, fair lady."

I grinned at him. "I like you." I looked at Boromir. "I like him." Boromir rubbed his temples like he was trying not to get a headache. Seeing his tantrum was over, I gingerly sat on the bench, feeling the blood drain from my face as my stitches pulled.

The pain killers that had left me so disoriented this morning had long since worked their way out of my system, leaving me with the full pain that raked me with every breath. It had been all I could do to stay vertical during Boromir's rant.

I grit my teeth against the pain and tried not to seem fazed. "So, laddies, I assume we're discussing battle tactics here?" I saw some of the men who didn't know me were shifting uncomfortably, unused to having a woman be privy to war meetings. Not in the mood to placate them, I rolled my eyes and turned my gaze to Aragorn. He, I knew, would listen to me. "You are going to do one of two things: either you will meet them as one horde, or you will divide into two groups and defend two hills, you on the left, and Imrahil on the right."

Aragorn pulled a map from the table and spread it out. "Show me."

I grit my teeth and forced myself to my feet, the action making me break into a cold sweat. After sitting down, my body was rebelling, demanding I rest. I ignored it. Instead, I walked to the table, fighting to keep my hand from clutching my side. "These two hills here," I said, pointing as the men gathered around. "But you have more immediate problems. By the time you reach the Morannon, you will have lost a thousand men."

A loud murmur went through the room, interrupting me. I was fading fast, the pain and exhaustion making me cranky. "Quiet," I said, looking up. I braced myself on the table, my left hand reaching to rub my side unbidden. "First, you will be ambushed by orc and Easterlings." I scanned map, unable to read the names on it. I sighed in frustration. "I can't read this. It will be where the Rangers of Ithilien ambushed the Haradrim a few days ago."

One of the men stepped forward. "We fought them here," he said, pointing on the map.

"Thank you," I said. "You won't lose many men, if you lose any at all. Sauron wants you to believe that he is weak and unprepared." I looked up at them. "He isn't. He knows you are coming, but he is terrified of Aragorn, because he believes Aragorn carries the Ring, and has come to conquer its former master."

I looked back at the map. "Show me Dagorlad." Someone else pointed to it. "This is where your biggest hit will take place. Some of the men will be too scared to pass the Desolation of Morannon. Between 1 and 2 thousand of them will be ordered to go liberate…uh…"the name escaped me and I frowned, rubbing my forehead. "It's something 'Andros'."

"Cairn Andros?" Someone supplied helpfully.

I snapped my fingers. "That's the one." I rubbed my face, which was slick with sweat from the effort of leaning over the table. "Forgive me, I need to sit." Imrahil, who was next to me, pulled a chair over, and helped me into it. I thanked him and turned my attention back to the group.

"What I say now, doesn't leave this tent." I looked at each of them, challenging them with my eyes. "Now, for the Black Gates. Sauron will send a Lieutenant to speak for him, called the Mouth of Sauron. He will try to trick you by showing you Frodo's mithril shirt. But Frodo and Sam have already escaped his grasp. All he knows is that there is a hobbit inside Mordor; he doesn't know why. As I said, he thinks Aragorn has the Ring, which means he will empty Mordor."I let that sink in, watching the men stir uncomfortably. "You will be outnumbered more than 10 to 1. I believe the quote was something like 'ten times and more than ten times'." At this another murmur went through the room, this one including some expletives. I didn't bother to quiet them, letting it die down on its own.

"Frodo is very close to Mount Doom now. This will give him the chance he needs to destroy it. All you men have to do is minimize casualties. In the end, it doesn't matter what battle formation you take, or how many men you have. You just have to keep Sauron's eye on Aragorn long enough that Frodo can destroy the Ring."

I adjusted uncomfortably in the seat, grimacing in pain. "I confess I don't know many details of the battle itself, but Sauron still has a few tricks up his sleeve. There will be Orcs, Trolls, Easterlings, and Haradrim, obviously. But there will also be Uruk-Hai, and Olog-hai, a form of improved troll." At this, I definitely heard a curse.

I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead, pain distracting me as I tried to remember details. "I know the remaining eight Nazgul will be there, but the Eagles will take care of them. At some point, Frodo will put on the Ring, and draw Sauron's attention. The Nazgul will fly off to find Frodo, and without Sauron's guidance, his army will fall into chaos. You will know when the Ring is destroyed," I said. "Mount Doom will erupt, destroying the Nazgul. Barad-Dur, the Black Gate, and the Tower of Teeth will be destroyed, so try to distance your men from those. When Sauron dies, his army will completely fall apart. You should have no problem defeating them after that, if you keep your heads. Some will flee, some will commit suicide, and some will surrender. "

The silence was almost tangible.

"I'd kill for some morphine," I muttered.

I cracked an eye open at a low whistle. "What ARE you?" one of the captains asked.

I winked at him. "I'm Awesome." Smiling tiredly, I looked up at Boromir, who stood at my side with his hand on my shoulder. "Is there some sort of healer or herb-master in the camp? I need something to take the edge off this pain. I'm dyin' here," I said, only half-joking. I'd take a witch doctor at this point. "I'll answer all the questions you can throw at me after."

"Of course." He turned and left the tent. When I was sure he was gone, I stood carefully, ignoring the pain in my side as I looked at them seriously.

"I've helped you as much as I can, and now I ask for your help in return." With that, I had the attention of the room. I spoke low and quickly. "Let me apologize to begin with. I should never have had to ask this of you. I know firsthand how dangerous it is to keep track of someone in battle, but Boromir MUST survive. I'm not asking as his betrothed, I'm asking as the person sent here to protect him. He has no direct heirs yet, and it is VITALLY important that his line continue." I met each of their eyes, willing them to listen. "There's no way I'll make it through the battle in this condition, which means it falls you to keep him alive." I looked at Aragorn, Eomer, and Imrahil now. "You are his family, or will be soon. When I die, let him grieve, but make sure he marries and produces an heir. Promise me you will make it so."

"You have my word," Aragorn said softly. Imrahil nodded as well. Relief washed over me, and I let myself collapse into the chair. When I had come to Middle Earth, a kind of weight had settled on my shoulders, though I had not known it. It vanished now, and I felt dizzy and giddy. I opened my eyes.

"Now, ask me your questions."

I was answering their questions as best I could, when Boromir reentered holding a small vial.

I smiled at him as I answered a question."No, they are probably being led by Khamûl the Easterling, as he is the most powerful Ringwraith now that the Witch King is dead." I gratefully accepted the vial. I struggled to uncork it as I continued. "It was never clear who it was."

"You said that some of the enemy flee. Where do they go?" I didn't know who had spoken, so focused on the stupid bottle. Boromir took it from me and uncorked it. I smiled and winked at him, then downed it in one gulp, nearly gagging at the taste.

"Lord, that's horrible." I screwed up my face. "The cure is almost worse than the disease. Anyway, I can't be of much help here. There isn't any one specific place they go. Caves, things like that. You'll spend the next several weeks rounding them up." I was surprised at how quickly warmth spread through me, and the pain in my side eased to a dull throb. "Wow, that's some strong stuff. Um, I remember Lorien and Mirkwood were some places. Erebor and Dol Guldur, too, I think."

"Will they all come from the Gate? That would give us more time."

I shook my head. "You'll have time to organize yourselves, but Sauron has his forces in the hills surrounding the Gates."

The questions continued, but I was starting to feel sleepy and light-headed. When I yawned and rubbed my eyes for what must have been the hundredth time, Boromir stood. "We'll continue in the morning." I must have looked terrible, or he must have looked scary, because no one argued. My side was blissfully quiet when I stood, but I swayed anyway, then yelped when Boromir suddenly swept me off my feet and carried me out of the tent.

By the time we reached his tent, I was loopy from the pain killer and exhaustion. "You're really handsome. Did you know? You have this whole rugged warrior thing going on. It's really working for you." He set me down only when we were inside of his tent.

I pulled off my clothes and laid them neatly on the floor before more or less falling onto the bed. My eyes were beginning to close as I watched him pull off all his armor. "And men say women have too many clothes," I murmured, struggling to stay awake. I opened my eyes only when he crawled in bed behind me, his body radiating so much warmth that it sent me the rest of the way to sleep. I almost didn't feel him run his hand lightly down the long, angry row of stitches.


	28. Is this the end?

**Author's Note: In the last few chapters, I have relied very heavily on Wikipedia, as well as lordotrings . com to help me with events, and I would like to credit them here. Also, you guys are going to HATE me at the end of this chapter.  
**

"Wake up, love."

I could feel that I was draped over Boromir, his deep voice vibrating through me. Literally draped over him, as it seemed the only part of me touching the cot was my foot. "Fernirfle?" I asked blearily, not bothering to open my eyes. I tried again. "What time is it?"

"Dawn. It is time to get up now," he said, pressing his lips to my hair. I raised my head and looked at him. "You look better this morning. There's more color in your cheeks." I kissed him and pried myself off, wincing a little.

"I feel a little stronger," I confessed. "And really hungry," I added as my stomach growled loudly. I stood carefully, and looked at the stitches running down my side. They looked better. We began to get dressed. "I don't know how you wear this stuff," I said, helping Boromir with his chain mail a few minutes later. "I tried one once, in Helm's Deep. I couldn't move, it was so heavy."

"Well, you are very small," he pointed out dryly. "It probably weighed as much as you did." I pinched his arm playfully before setting about his over-tunic. "Your body adjusts and you cease to notice it." Finished, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him.

"Are you still here," Gandalf said, coming upon a group of us eating breakfast. I was in the middle of shoving an entire roll in my mouth as Pippin cheered me on. "We do not have all day. There is a long journey ahead of us, yet. Get moving."

I allowed myself a sarcastic Nazi salute to Gandalf as we obediently dispersed.

Bruidal was tethered to a line of horses. As I had not taken my pack from Bruidal the night before, everything was together. Someone had already saddled him for me, so I only had to strap my swords onto the saddle, and put on his bridle. Then I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out how I would get onto this mammoth of a horse without help. Another, more experienced rider would have no problem mounting, I was sure. When I didn't immediately get on, Bruidal turned his head to eye me dubiously.

"Don't give me that look," I said. "I'm not the freakishly large one here." He snorted as though he understood, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Are you in need of assistance, Lady?" I turned to see Prince Imrahil saddling his own horse and watching me.

"It seems I do," I said with a sheepish smile. This was humiliating. My horse was too big for me. He smiled kindly and came over, giving me a leg up. Evidently, I was lighter than he anticipated, because his lift almost sent me flying over Bruidal's back. I caught myself, barely, and smiled at him. "Thank you. Are you riding with the King?"

He nodded. "I will escort you to them if you will but wait for me." I nodded, and he finished saddling his own mount. He swung himself into the saddle, and I found myself envying his grace. "Shall we proceed?"I nodded and we took off at a trot.

We were the last ones of the Commanders party to arrive. I slowed down as I reached Boromir's side, surprised to see that our horses were the same size. By his double-take, he was surprised as well. "What are you doing on a war horse," he asked in confusion.

I shrugged. "I needed a fast horse, and he was presented to me. Besides, we're good friends now," I said, leaning down and rubbing Bruidal's neck. "You must admit, he's strikingly handsome," I added proudly. The mighty stallion turned his head to Boromir and knickered, sounding for all the world that he was laughing at the man.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

We traveled for several days. I gained more and more of the Commanders' confidence as each of my prophecies came to pass exactly as I said they would. Through frequent trips to a Healer (and not a few lengthy admonitions from Aragorn about taking care of myself), I regained much of my strength, surprising me. I even entertained the thought that I might live through the battle, though those hopes were quashed when one sparring match with Boromir ended in torn stitches and another long lecture from Aragorn.

The night before the battle, Boromir and I had made love one last time, and if he thought there was something wrong, something desperate about my kisses, he did not say it. After, as we lay wrapped in each other's arms, he forbade me from coming, and I had laughed at him and kissed him to shut him up.

And so I found myself standing before the Black Gates of Mordor, trying very hard not to shake with fear, knowing there was an orc shaped bullet aimed for my head. I had given Bruinal to one of the knights who knew how to fight on horseback, knowing I would be better off on foot. Aragorn and the others had gone to parlay with the Mouth of Sauron, and the rest of us waited and watched.

It seemed like an eternity passed before they finally rode back and took their places before their men. Aragorn alone rode across the lines of men, trying to give them courage.

"I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. The day may come when the courage of Men fails; when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship; but it is not this day – an hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the Age of Man comes crashing down - but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth -I bid you stand, Men of the West!"

Sauron's army began to swarm out of…well…everywhere. Orcs, trolls, Uruk-Hai, men, Olog-Hai, Nazgul…everything nasty that he could throw at us, he did. I steeled myself, then threw myself into the fray with a cry. If I had to leave this world, then I was damn well going to take someone with me.

I fought furiously, never staying in one spot longer than a breath. I didn't even really focus on my opponents; I just cut and slashed and rammed and stabbed anything that looked like an enemy.

I stayed as close to Boromir as I could, throwing myself at any enemy who got too close to his back. An Uruk began closing in on me, and I bared my teeth at him.

The sun glinted off his shield, and I blinked, bringing up my sword as he lunged at me. I sprang to the side, slashing at him. He parried the blow with his shield. He turned and brought his sword down again, but I deflected the blow with my own, simultaneously swinging my other blade at his throat. He raised his shield and blocked it, and again we were circling, looking for openings in each other's defense.

I swung at his feet, but he anticipated and jumped, my blade swinging harmlessly through the air. As he landed, I raised my other sword above my head, blocking the blow I knew was coming. But he came from below, instead, and I only just got my sword there in time. I used the force of his blow to spin me, and channeled my momentum into my swing, bringing both blades at him. But he had already brought his own sword up, our blades meeting with a spark, and he shoved me back with his shield. I stumbled back with the force of it, and he used the opening to bring his sword down with a mighty swing that would have cut me in half had I not thrown myself to the side and rolled to my feet, feeling my stitches tear open yet again.

I attacked again, lunging straight at him, but again he blocked my blow. I knew he vastly outmatched me with size and strength, and his blows fell like hammers, but he was also slow. I had speed and agility on my side. If I drew his strength to a fake attack, he wouldn't be able to recover in time to block the real one.

I charged him, one sword raised above my head as though to swing at him. He raised his shield to block it, his sword swinging at the opening in my defense, but I jumped, my momentum spinning me as I brought my blades down on his undefended back, slicing through skin and bone.

I kicked the corpse off of my swords and turned to face another attacker. I brought both swords above my head in time to block the blow he had aimed for my head. As we struggled, I realized I was face to face with the suffragette She-Uruk from Amon Hen. We both frowned.

"Did you ever become a cook," I asked through gritted teeth, forcing all my strength into the block.

"Aye," she scowled fiercely, still forcing her sword down. "Turns out I'm bloody terrible at it." We both glared and broke away with a nod, an unexpected truce between us as we each turned and chose other opponents.

The battle dragged on, and I could feel my strength waning as blood from my opened wound stained my dress. My blows became weaker, and I became less agile and quick on my feet. As the nazgul screamed and wheeled back into Mordor, I found myself running on fumes.

I saw a troll come behind Boromir, and adrenalin surged through me again. I ran at its back and leapt as high as I could. Both swords sank into its back to the hilt, and it spun with a bellow of pain, swinging me around and down as it looked for its attacker. My weight carried me down, the swords cutting deep, lethal gashes in its back as I fell, blood spurting violently on me as I sliced through arteries. I was still on its back as the troll fell to the ground, and I wrenched both blades free.

I stood for a moment, dazed, weak, covered in blood, and swaying, my swords hanging limply by my sides. I brought my swords up numbly to block the blow of another attacker, but there was no muscle behind it, my strength having abandoned me. Eye looked into the eyes of the Easterling as his blade cut through my shoulder and I was driven to the ground.

Darkness swirled at the edges of my vision as I lay there. Distantly, I saw flames and smoke rise high in the sky, and I turned my head to watch as Mount Doom erupted wrathfully, consuming the Nazgul with its fury. Around me, the Gates and towers of Mordor began to crumble in an ear splitting roar, and Sauron's mighty army disintegrated into fear. I closed my eyes, vaguely aware that I was in pain, and that I was probably bleeding out, but unable to do anything about it.

I must have lost consciousness, but I woke as I heard a guttural roar and felt myself cradled in someone's arms. I opened my eyes to see Boromir holding me, tears in his eyes as he brushed my hair from my face. I couldn't help that some selfish part of me was glad he was crying, glad he loved me enough to mourn me. But that part warred with the part that loved him, and didn't want him to be sad. I wanted to say something to sooth him.

"Don't leave me," he begged. My eyes began to darken and his face became blurry. I fought against it, struggling to stay with him. But I could no more fight nature than he could, and I had been mortally wounded. I felt my heart slowing, struggling to pump what little blood was still in my system, but it was futile.

I closed my eyes, and fell into the welcoming arms of death.

**Author's Note:**

Is it a cliff hanger or not?

R & R!


	29. Minas Tirith

I opened my eyes.

I was in the hospital. Or rather, my body was. My body, battered, bloody, bruised, and unconscious, hooked to wires and tubes. A monitor beeped steadily in the corner. A pretty older woman sat in a chair by the bed, holding my hand, and looking all too familiar. If I'd had a heart in this incorporeal form, it would have skipped a beat.

"Momma?" I rushed to her side, trying to give her a hug, but my arms passed through her without sensation. I fell to my knees. Surely, this was some cruel trick of the gods. I sat there for a moment, just staring up at her, trying to memorize every facet of her face, every laugh line and grey hair. Her blue eyes, the same light shade as mine, bore dark bruises from exhaustion, and the long brown hair that she had once prided herself on was now laced with grey. How long had I been asleep?

The door opening drew my attention, and my father walked in, carrying the stuffed unicorn I had kept in my room since childhood. I remembered him telling me that Unicorns were magic, and that it would protect me while I slept. He placed it on the stand next to the bed and took a seat in the chair beside his wife. Mom didn't look up, but grabbed his hand like a lifeline. "I thought she would have wanted it here," he said softly, though she had not asked. The urge to hug him was overwhelming, and my heart ached.

I noticed other things on the table. Pictures of me and family, mostly. One was of the last Superbowl, and showed me being held aloft by my four older brothers, all of us wearing jerseys and laughing. Another was of me and my sister-in-law dressed up as Mario and Luigi at a Halloween party.

The door opened again, and my oldest brother entered with his wife. I noticed with confusion that Lacy was very heavily pregnant, though she had been only 6 months when I'd seen her last. My brother put his hand on Momma's shoulder. "Nick and Marshall and Nathan are almost here," he murmured. My frown deepened. Why was my family all here if I had really been asleep for months? I had a sickening feeling I knew the answer when my other three brothers walked in. As the door closed, I caught sight of a group of medical personnel waiting outside.

My sister-in-law sat on the bed and took my hand, though her next words were addressed to the room. "Adam and I have decided that, if the baby's a girl, we're going to name her Rose."

My mother began to cry softly, and my father replied, "She would have liked that." There was a tense silence in the room.

After a moment, my mother leaned across the bed and kissed me on the forehead. "Sleep tight, my little girl. Momma will always love you."

Dad pressed my limp hand to his cheek, but seemed unable to speak. He swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing furiously. After a moment, he kissed my hand. "I'll see you again someday, Midget." Finally hearing my father's pet name after so long away, I started to sob.

"Daddy, I'm here. I'm right here. Please look at me," I begged, my voice breaking with emotion as my brothers said their goodbyes. "Please don't kill me. I don't want to die." But my family couldn't hear me.

I closed my eyes, wanting to scream and rage at the injustice. Wanting to make someone, anyone, hurt like this. I had died for love in one world, only to find my family about to let me die in the other. What was the point? Where was my justice? Where was my reward for doing the gods' work? Why had I been brought back here, if just to die?

Despair gave way to fury. If the gods' thought I was going to sit back and let them kill me, they were sadly mistaken. I was a spirit now, which meant I had the powers of one. I focused hard on Eru Iluvatar's face, stoking my rage to greater heights. My family glanced around as the hospital lights flickered.

Eru suddenly appeared before me, covered in feather boas and Mardi Gras beads. "Who dared to summon me in the middle of a parade? I was on Bourbon Street!" He frowned at me. "Oh, I remember you. Aren't you supposed to be watching that Gondor boy?"

I slammed him into the wall, one hand around his throat. The one benefit of being a ghost was that you were no longer limited by what your body could handle; strength in this form was limited only by your force of will. Focusing all my rage, I lifted him off the ground by his neck.

An unseen force threw me across the room. "Who the HELL do you think you are," the god snarled. "I am the Iluvatar. I am immortal. You cannot kill me, girl."

I strode toward him furiously. "I did everything you wanted. I saved him. I DIED saving him." I punched him hard enough to snap his head back. "And then I come back to find you've killed me here, too." He caught my fist as I swung again, but I stuck my leg behind his and shoved. He fell over my leg and landed hard on his back, cracking his head audibly on the ground. I knelt on both of his arms, pinning him to the ground. "You. Took. Everything. From. Me." I enunciated each point with a punch to the face.

Again, I was blown away. I hit the ceiling hard, and fell to the ground. He pressed a foot to my back, forcing me down. "Spunky little thing, aren't you? Stay down," he snapped when I tried to push myself up. "Do you think you're the only one to suffer an unjust death? History is filled with them. That's the rub, girl. You're mortal, and therefore expendable. You're dead. Deal with it." He lifted his foot and I got to my feet.

"History is also filled with god-killers," I snarled, though I didn't attack him again. "You don't get to kill me, TWICE, without consequences. I swear on my deathbed," I pointed to wear my body lay dying, "that I will see justice done. I may not be able to kill you myself, but I will not rest until I find someone who can."

An invisible force slammed me back against the wall and held me there. "Are you insane or just stupid," he hissed. "Curses have weight, girl. You could spend a thousand years hunting for someone with the power to hurt me."

"Or I could find him tomorrow," I snarled back. "If I must die this way, then I'll gladly spend eternity seeking justice. And you will spend that eternity constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if today is the day your crimes come back to haunt you."

"I could end you here and now."

"If you had that power, you would have done it already," I spat. "Even you aren't omnipotent. And I am willing to bet there are a few gods who would gladly help get rid of you."

He glared at me for a long moment, but his silence spoke volumes. Clearly, I had struck a nerve. I felt my invisible bonds vanish abruptly and he smiled coldly. "Very well. I will give you back your life, but you must choose which one." I froze, going cold at his words. He stepped closer, and whispered in my ear. "Choose carefully, because I will not offer again." He vanished.

Which one do I choose? Do I return to my family, to the life I knew? Or do I return to Boromir, and a world where I would never quite fit in? I stood there for a long time, lost in thought. All of the machines keeping me alive had been turned off, and my family was waiting around the bed for my body to die.

And then, suddenly, I knew. I had seen my family say their goodbyes. They had already accepted my death. My life with them had run its course.

But Boromir….I could still have a life with him. My story with him had only just begun. I spared one last look at my family.

"Eru Iluvatar," I called. For a moment, I didn't think he'd come, but then his image shimmered and solidified in front of me.

"You have reached a decision?"

"I choose Middle Earth."

He held out his hand. I looked for some sign of trickery in his face, but the god was emotionless now. I closed my eyes and put my hand in his.

When I opened them again, I found we were back on the battlefield.

The battle was clearly over, and survivors walked through the debris looking for people. Boromir still cradled my limp body in his arms, his head bent down in defeat. Gandalf and Imrahil had joined him now. I watched as Boromir shrugged off Gandalf's hand on his shoulder. I longed to comfort him as I watched him caress my face.

"You look like shit," Eru commented. I grit my teeth, but had to agree. My body was covered in blood, yet held the pallor of death. My shoulder was hanging at a sickening angle, since the blow that had killed me had cut through bone. Eru walked over to my body. "After this, we are even," he said, looking back at me. I nodded, bracing myself…

And gasped, shuddering violently in agony as my empty body adjusted to a sudden influx of blood. I could hear exclamations behind me as I thrashed. I panted as my lungs inflated, and my heart sputtered rapidly as it found its rhythm again. My eyes burned as my irises dilated and contracted several times. Muscles contracted and released as they received conflicting instructions from a brain that had restarted.

As suddenly as it had started, my body found its rhythm and quieted. I lay there for a moment, praying it was over. Suddenly, I found myself crushed to a rock.

"Ow, chainmail," I wheezed into his chest. Boromir pulled back, though didn't let go of me.

"By all the Gods, how is this possible," he breathed. He ran his hands over my shoulder in wonder. I looked down to see an angry scar there, and the bones ached, but I was otherwise fine. I could feel that my side had been healed as well. "Surely my senses deceive me, or else this is some cruel trick to drive me mad. How can this be?"

I threw my arms around him. "Eru brought me back." I didn't add that I hadn't given him a choice in the matter.

Boromir pulled back to look at me, running his hands over my face. "I dare not to trust my eyes."

"I am alive. I'm here. I fought my way back to you."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

I yawned and stretched tiredly. I felt Boromir stir behind me, his arm tightening around me in his sleep. I smiled and pulled the blanket up a little higher around us.

These last few days had been trying. At night, we would spend hours making love, as though he needed to reassure himself that I was alright, that I was really alive. During the day, he refused to let me out of his sight for even a second. At first, it had been sweet and comforting, even enjoyable to have him be so protective. He had even tried to demand I ride with him on his horse, insisting that Bruinal was too big for me. I had compromised with a promise to ride beside him so that he could keep an eye on me.

Now, however, his over-protectiveness was starting to drive me up the wall. I'd had to put my foot down when I had gone into the woods to answer the call of nature and he had tried to follow. I understood that he had literally held me as I died, and was entitled to some patience. I even knew that it would pass in time. Yet, that didn't stop me from wanting to strangle him occasionally.

We had finally arrived back at Minas Tirith the night before. I had expected to return to our rooms in the Royal Quarters, but was surprised to find Boromir had a townhouse in the city. In retrospect, it made perfect sense that the Captain General of Gondor's troops would have his own household, instead of living indefinitely with his father. We had been so exhausted that we had thrown propriety to the wind and slept in his house, in his bed. I supposed it didn't make much difference at this point, anyway, as I hadn't adhered to politesse since arriving in Middle Earth. Why bother now?

Still, I found myself uneasy in the cold light of morning. On campaign, in the wilderness, respectability was gained through prowess with a sword. Here, in the city, with courts and intrigue and socialites, there was danger of a different kind, one whose head I couldn't just lop off. As Boromir's betrothed, I would be expected to uphold a certain standard, yet I had only a vague idea of what that standard was. I was sure, however, that it wasn't based on my own moral compass.

I found myself apprehensive at the prospect of having to live in social circles where what other people thought of you and your actions was more important than simply being a good person. I knew nothing of court life or what would be expected of me. Add to the fact that my knowledge of events was limited to generalities now, and I wondered how I could possibly fit in to this new world, where I was no longer a Seer. I had quite literally endured the worst that battle could throw at me, yet found the prospect of court life and social blunders infinitely more terrifying. At least on the battlefield, I knew what I could and couldn't do.

As if sensing my unease, Boromir stirred. Turning in his arms, I pressed a kiss to his jaw, and watched as he opened one bleary eye, then closed it again. "We should get up," he murmured, his sleep-graveled voice rumbling through me pleasantly. I smiled and nuzzled his neck. He reciprocated by pulling my closer and kissing my temple sleepily.

Sighing at the prospect of leaving our cocoon of blankets, I forced myself to wriggle from his arms and climbed out of bed. April air was cold on my bare skin, winter having not relinquished its icy grasp to the warmth of Spring. I began to walk to the closet, wondering if I could get away with stealing some of Boromir's breaches and tunics, when he lunged out from beneath the covers and yanked me back into the bed with one arm around my waist.

"I take it we're not getting up," I said, stifling laughter. He responded by throwing a leg over mine and kissing my neck.

"Not just yet. We have much to do today, but it can wait for a while yet," he murmured against my neck, sliding his hand lower under the blankets. I gasped and arched my back as his hand reached its destination, and he trailed his lips below my ear, his breath hot on my throat.

"We shouldn't," I murmured, though I made no move to stop him as he rolled me over. I closed my eyes. _Screw it_, I thought. _The day can wait._

0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o

When we finally got out of bed, I found that someone, presumably a maid, had left a dress in the closet for me during the night. I was torn between relief that I didn't have to wear the dress I had died in, and frustration that I no longer had an excuse to wear men's more sensible and comfortable clothing. I wasn't sure what fascination Middle Earth women had with long, flowing sleeves, but it was incredibly impractical. They were constantly catching on things and knocking them over.

Dressed, rested, and back in Minas Tirith, I had to address my unfinished business with Denethor. I knew Boromir would not tolerate being parted from me, not yet anyway. Maybe it was for the best. Lord knew I didn't know what I should do with the Steward.

And so it was that Boromir led me to his father's quarters, where Denethor was being kept under guard.

Denethor was as intimidating now as he had been when we had first met. He sat in a chair reading, but stood as we entered. Boromir bowed his head respectfully, but I did nothing; I would not bow to the madman who had nearly killed his younger son, and sent Minas Tirith to ruin.

"I see you have come to rub salt in my wounds, or have you come merely to see my disgrace," he said bitterly, clearly speaking to me.

"It was not my intention to see you disgraced, my lord," I replied softly. "What I did, I did for the good of Gondor and the House of Hurin."

"Keep your lies, treacherous witch, for I will not hear them. You sought to supplant me with my own son. Power was your only goal." Denethor turned his hate filled gaze to Boromir. "And you. My own son let some nameless whore spin her webs that you would succeed me. Never did I think to look to my own house for treachery. But why, I wonder, did you keep me alive? Was there more honor in declaring me traitor, unfit to rule, than in creeping to my bedroom in the dead of night with a dagger? No, looking into your faces, the truth comes to me. You hoped to drive me mad, that I would end my own life and spare you the task. You had not the stomach to dirty your own hands with the blood of the Steward."

"I have always been but faithful to you, my lord." Boromir's voice was strained as he addressed his father. "A sickness has been growing in you like a parasite for many years now, though I could not see it till now. Sauron has used your love of your people to poison your mind. Please, I beg you, come back to the light, and know your allies as you once did. Faramir may yet forgive you. He knows your will has turned to madness."

Denethor lunged forward angrily, and I backed away instinctively. Boromir stood his ground.

"Madness? No," Denethor hissed, "it is only now that I see with clear eyes. How long have you plotted against me? Perhaps you were turned in Imladris. And now that Sauron's army is at our door, you take your chance to seize power for yourself. But you will get your comeuppance, my son. He will slaughter us all."

"Father, Sauron is defeated and the Ring destroyed. The army of Mordor has been conquered. I beseech you, let your eyes prove what our words cannot," Boromir gestured to the balcony.

"I am neither a fool nor a child," Denethor hissed. "Sauron cannot be defeated. I have seen the army, and if it has vanished before my gaze, then it is some trick of the senses. You are in league with him, and this is some ploy to prove me mad."

Boromir was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was resigned. "I pray that someday you will believe that I have not betrayed you, Father." He bowed and walked to the door, opening it for me. I looked at Denethor, wanting to say something, anything, to make it better, but no words would come. Some things can't be fixed. Instead, I turned to the door and walked out. As Boromir followed me out, he stopped and turned. "You will always have my love and loyalty, Father."

We retrieved our weapons and walked in silence down the hall. I knew Boromir needed something, but I also knew that, whatever it was, I couldn't provide it. I racked my brain for something to say to comfort him, or to relieve the tension, but came up empty handed. What do you say to someone whose father has gone crazy?

I was almost relieved when a page stopped us. "My Lord and Lady," he said with a nervous bow. "Your presence is requested in the Commanders Hall, sir." Boromir bowed to me, then left with the page.

"Now what do I do with myself," I muttered. I was still a guest here, so I had no responsibilities. What did women in this time normally do during the day? Sit and twiddle their thumbs? Needlepoint? I could sew, but it was by no means my favorite pastimes. Or was someone possibly expecting me to start running Boromir's household? But maybe it was considered too early for that. Not that it mattered, since I knew literally nothing of running a household. I pinched the bridge of my nose, beginning to get a headache. Not for the first time, I longed for Google or Wikipedia. Lacking that, I could only think of one alternative.

It took me some hunting, but eventually I found the shield-maiden of Rohan. She was in her quarters, and looked relieved to see me. "Lady Rose," the younger woman greeted when she opened her door and saw me. "Please, come in. What brings you here?"

"I need Lady lessons," I blurted when she closed the door behind me. She looked startled and confused.

"'Lady lessons'? I am not sure I take your meaning," she said hesitantly.

I don't know how to be a royal lady," I babbled. "What do I do during the day? What do I say to people? Do I have any responsibilities? I want to be of help, but I don't know the first thing about being a court lady. I've only had experience on the battlefield, really. And then I thought, 'Eowyn is a lot like me, I bet she could help me'. I don't even know how to curtsey," I finished miserably.

As she listened, Eowyn's face changed from concern, to confusion, to amusement, and back to confusion. "Forgive me, but I had been led to believe you were regarded as a lady of great power in your homeland. I confess your mannerisms have sometimes seemed queer in the past, but the lords you traveled with always held you in high esteem. How is it that you have no experience in these matters?"

I sighed and sat down. "Are we alone here," I asked, wanting privacy for this particular discussion. When she nodded, I began to tell her the whole sordid tale about how I arrived in Middle Earth and all the events that had led to me coming to her for help. To her credit, she listened attentively to everything I said, stopping me occasionally to ask for clarification. When I stopped, she was silent for a moment.

"I must admit that, though your tale sounds incredible, it is no more unbelievable than being a true Seer, which you have proven yourself to be, time and time again." She patted my hand. "Worry not, friend. Someone once had to teach me these things, and so now shall I teach you." She stood and held out her hand. "Now, let me show you how to curtsey."

During the next several hours, we alternated between instructing each other and pelting each other with questions. She taught me to curtsey properly, showing me how to keep my back straight and fan out my skirts. In return, I taught her a few self defense moves my brothers had taught me that I had yet to see in my journeys, such as how to flip someone over your shoulder.

The sun had begun its descent over the sparkling city when I finally left Eowyn. I was walking back to Boromir's townhouse when a servant stopped me, telling me that the King had summoned me. I pursed my lips at the wording, but followed her anyway.

I opened the door to the Throne Room to find Aragorn and Boromir speaking to a man I didn't recognize. My first impression of the man was that he was prissy and frivolous, an assumption only strengthened as I saw the many rings adorning his fingers and the gold trimmed robes he wore. He bowed as I approached the group, and I inclined my head in greeting as Eowyn had shown me.

"Lady Rose, may I present Master Nerwende, Master of Ceremony," Aragorn introduced. I bit back a smile at the name, wondering if he knew it literally translated to 'man-maiden'. I was so focused on trying not to laugh that I stuck out my hand for him to shake, forgetting that the custom would be unknown to him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said. He stared at the hand, then clasped it hesitantly, raising his eyebrows when I shook it.

"He wanted to speak of your upcoming nuptials," Aragorn continued. To his credit, he kept his tone level, but I knew him well enough to hear the pained note in it.

"I see," I said dryly, looking from Aragorn to Boromir with a raised eyebrow. That explained the strained look on both their faces, then.

"With all due respect, my Lady, I do not think you do. Gondorian weddings are things of special magnificence, all the more so after a war," Nerwende interjected. "A marriage between a ward of the King and the Lord Steward has not happened in centuries, and must be celebrated with all due extravagance. I confess I know neither of the customs of your people, nor whom you will be inviting to the wedding. I trust they will have enough time to make the journey in two months." He continued to prattle on, and listened with half an ear, catching the politely glazed expressions the other men wore.

I smiled when the little man paused to take a breath. "I am flattered and grateful that you have put such attention to this event," I said. "I admit I'm a little surprised that it is happening so soon after the war. It seems a little frivolous to spend money on a wedding when I am sure there are better uses to which the funds could be put." I looked at Aragorn as I spoke, but it was Nerwende that replied.

"Oh, no, my Lady. Weddings boost the morale of the little people, give them something to celebrate. Further, this is a great political alliance, a sign of goodwill between the King and Steward. The common people must see it!" I raised my eyebrow at the patronizing reference to Gondor's people.

"I am sure you and Master Nerwende have much to discuss," Boromir said. Nerwende turned to him, and I shot Boromir a warning look, mouthing 'Don't you DARE'. His expression didn't change, but he shrugged imperceptibly at me. I narrowed my eyes and drew my finger across my throat pointedly. His lip twitched. "We shall leave you to it." I pounded my fist into my hand threateningly as he bowed to us. By the time Nerwende turned back to me, I had schooled my expression back into a polite smile.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Author's Note: I'm pretty interested in exploring how a modern woman would adjust to court life, so I think I'm going to continue this story a little more. R & R.**


	30. Of Aragorn's new hat

It had now been 6 weeks since the Battle of the Black Gates. At Nerwende's insistence, I was again staying in the Royal Quarters on the seventh level of Minas Tirith. In my opinion, it was no one's business but mine where I slept, but Nerwende viewed it quite differently. He had thrown what I could only describe as a full blown tantrum, and I had conceded to his wishes.

It had turned out rather nicely, in all honesty. It forced Boromir to get over his over protectiveness, and had afforded me more time to see Eowyn and members of the Fellowship. My days began to run together, filled with lessons with Eowyn, which I thoroughly enjoyed, and with the Master of Ceremony, which I enjoyed much less and rather dreaded. It was strange enough to plan a wedding with no family or friends of my own in attendance, but I had a strong dislike for Nerwende. The patronizing little man grated on my nerves, and fought against making changes to accommodate the wedding traditions that I had grown up with. Generally, I let him have his way, but there were some traditions I wanted to adhere to, and several times I had been forced to pull rank on him. I was grateful to him for handling the bulk of the wedding planning, but that didn't stop me from occasionally wanting to throttle him.

The nights were the only time Boromir and I managed to see each other. For some reason, Boromir had begun reverting back to the old manners he had been brought up with, and he started courting me again. There were long walks, and lingering glances, and stolen kisses. This was a side of him I hadn't seen since Lothlorien.

The Coronation ball was that night, though Aragorn had been officially crowned King when we had first returned to Minas Tirith weeks earlier. I was nervous about being in front of the whole kingdom. I said as much to Eowyn as she watched me get fitted for the gown I would be wearing. Boromir had suggested I have one made when I had once again tripped over the hem of a too-long dress. Not wanting to humiliate myself in front of a room full of people, I had agreed.

"So," I said as the seamstress stuck pins into the dress, "how is Faramir's courtship progressing?"

Eowyn sent me a speculative look. "I expect you already know the answer to that better than I do." I grinned at her. "He is sweet," she admitted. "Indeed, I love him greatly. But am I to sheath my sword for good for the sake of love?"

"Do you still want to go on those adventures," I asked her. Her hesitation answered my question. "That's what I thought."

"And what of you, Rose? Are you so calm about the prospect of giving up your freedom?" She countered.

"I'm not giving up anything. I never wanted to be a warrior. When things settle down, I intend on creating some of the things from…" we both glanced at the seamstress, and changed what I was going to say, "Well, where I'm from," I finished wryly. "Honestly, I'm constantly irritated at how little power women have here. I was raised as any man's equal, but here, I find I have to throw Boromir's name around to get anything done."

"Och, aye," agreed the seamstress, surprising me. "The men have returned from the war with great honor and majesty. But that is little comfort to the widows who have lost the ability to feed their wee ones."

I looked at with interest. "What do you mean?"

The young woman blushed, but continued. "Many men died in the war, leaving their women without income or a champion to speak for them. There are too many women and too few jobs for them. Yesterday, one of the lasses down the street was tossed out of her house when the landlord found that her husband had died. Poor lass had nowhere to go, what with a newborn and no family. You see it everywhere, now. The streets are lined with orphans and widows."

"There must be something someone can do," I said. "Surely there's a fund or something." The woman shook her head.

"There is, but it's not enough. There are too many women. In times past, when a woman became a widow, she had to remarry quickly. But there simply aren't enough men now. And now that the War is over, the men are taking over the jobs, leaving the women with nothing. Only reason I have this one is because my brother owns the shop. What's more, women canno' own or inherit property, so they get tossed out on the street by whatever distantly related man has a claim on their homes."

"Someone has to do something," I said incredulously. Eowyn was watching me, a speculative look in her eyes.

"So do something," Eowyn challenged. I frowned.

"I can't do anything. I'm a nobody. I'm no great lady. I'm just a girl with no family, from a place no one has heard of."

"I beg to differ. You're going to be married to the Steward," she pointed out. "And it is well known that you have the High King's ear. Right now, you are the most powerful woman in the realm."

I didn't reply, and we let the conversation flow to lighter topics. Still, her words were still rattling around in my brain that night as I dressed for the ball. I frowned at my reflection as I stared into the mirror. I was dressed in all this finery, adorned in jewels, going to what was essentially a big party, and there were women and children on the street with nothing to eat.

There was a knock on the door. "It's open," I called, and turned to see Aragorn enter. Since I was technically his ward, the Master of Ceremony had made sure that we matched. We both wore the same midnight blue and for once, his dress uniform looked as uncomfortable as my gown. Since I was wearing what felt was likely ten pounds of underwear - what with the several layers of petticoats, crinolines, and corset – that was quite a comment. "Well, look at you, Handsome," I teased, winking at him. "In all that finery, someone might mistake you for a king." He smiled.

"You look stunning," he complimented as he came to stand by me.

I gazed at us in the mirror. "We do clean up nice, don't we," I mused. "Do you ever feel like an utter ass in these silly clothes?"

"Every single day," he sighed. He held out his arm. "Shall we?"

To his credit (and my displeasure), Nerwende had planned our arrival to make the greatest possible entrance. When the citadel guard opened the great doors for us, the music stopped, and the two of us walked in slowly. It was all I could do not to burst into nervous giggles. We reached his throne, and I took my place behind him at the foot of it.

"I will not delay you with long speeches. I believe we have had enough of those for a while," he said with a smile. The room laughed. "I thank you for coming tonight. It is my wish that tonight be the first of many celebrations in the future. Please, let us enjoy ourselves." Now that Aragorn was king, it fell to us to lead the dancers. He led me out onto the floor, and as we took our places next to each other, I felt as though every gaze in the hall was burning a hole in my back as we waited for the other couples to take their places. I looked at Aragorn, knowing him well enough by now to know that he was every bit as nervous as I was.

The orchestra struck up the traditional Gondorian Waltz that Boromir had shown me so long ago in Rohan. I thanked Eowyn with every fiber of my being for the hours she had spent teaching me this dance. I placed my hand in Aragorn's and we began to whirl and twirl around the floor. I was so terrified that I completely forgot the steps, but my body seemed to remember them, and I didn't falter.

The song came to an end, and Aragorn bowed to me. "Well done," he murmured low enough for me to hear.

I smiled at him, and curtsied, remembering to flare out my skirt. "Not too bad yourself," I replied, equally quiet as he led me to where Boromir stood.

If Aragorn looked handsome in his dress uniform, Boromir looked breathtaking. He was all shoulders and chest, and his eyes were so grey they seemed to reflect the candlelight. He bowed and kissed my hand, his lips lingering just a moment too long, and they felt like flames on my skin. "Would you honor me with a dance, Lady," he asked.

I resisted the urge to clear my throat. "Given how it ended the last time we danced, I'm not sure if the good people of Gondor can handle it," I said mischievously, surprising a laugh out of him.

"Little vixen," he said, smiling down at me as he led me to the floor. The music struck up again, a quicker dance this time, and suddenly it was a flurry of whirling skirts as the men spun their partners around and around the dance floor.

"We should go say hi to our friends, I think," I said when the dance was over. Boromir led me to where our fellowship sat talking, exchanging stories. Mithrandir looked up at our approach.

"So now we find ourselves together once again," the wizard said cheerfully. My mind flashed to the many nights we had sat together, eating or simply resting, as we had approached Caradhras. From the expressions the others wore, they too were remembering. "Perhaps we have changed, but we are no worse for the wear."

I thought glumly that Frodo might beg to differ, but pushed the thought from my mind. "Let's not think of it now," I said, noticing the darkening faces of some of the Fellowship. "Tonight is about Aragorn, and how dashing he looks in his new hat." My joke, however bad, succeeded in lightening the mood. Everyone chuckled as Aragorn took off his crown and bowed with a flourish. "A toast! Now come the days of the King. May they be blessed." Gandalf cocked an eyebrow at me as everyone raised their goblets, and I winked at him.

"Now, I believe I shall go procure something to drink," I said, wiggling my eyebrows at them. I left Boromir with the group, and retreated to the tables laden with food. I had never developed a taste for wine, and chose instead a goblet of ale. Waiting for my drink, I eavesdropped on a group of older women standing near.

"What I don't understand is how she hooked the Steward. She is not so lovely as to detract from her odd manner of speech and horrific accent, and I have heard only vague explanations as to her supposed rank." There was a twitter of agreement. "It is a well known fact that Lord Boromir had chosen my Lothlann to be his wife. Why now does he throw his lot in with a crumpet from a place no one has heard of? She must have bewitched him somehow, or else her time in the company of soldiers has taught her things no _true_ lady could dream of." Tears of humiliation stung my eyes as I took my goblet silently. Why could I never think of a scathing retort when I actually needed one? Refusing to let them make me cry, I turned away, only to find a familiar man blocking my path.

"Lothwen is a bitter old hag," Faramir commented just loudly enough for them to hear. "Pay no heed to her idle gossip. No one else does." I smiled weakly at him. "Walk with me at whiles, sister?" Raising my chin, I took his proffered arm.

"Thanks for the rescue back there," I said as we walked past the White Tree. "I don't know why I was surprised. Catty women seem to be one of the truly universal things in the world. I suppose I had just been treated so kindly by the few women I've met since coming to Middle Earth that I assumed they were all that way."

Faramir set his glass next to wear I leaned on the ledge. "It is true, then, what King Elessar and my brother say? That you have come from the distant future? That you know the fates of us all?"

I shrugged. "The part about me coming from the future is true, but my knowledge of people's fates was mostly limited to the War. I do know a few things still, but they are mostly vague generalities now. Things like what marriages take place, and where people end up." My thoughts turned to Eowyn, and then to our previous conversation. I looked at him speculatively. "Faramir, what kind of rights do women have here?"

He looked surprised at the question. "I am not sure. I suppose that it has always been assumed they would be taken care of by men. As far as I can recall, there are no specific laws regarding them, though I could be mistaken."

"So it's true that women can't inherit property," I pressed.

"No, not as far as I know," he replied. "Property is inherited by male heirs. Where is this coming from?"

I didn't answer him. "Are there any laws protecting women?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Rape and the like are punishable crimes, but I'm not overly familiar with the topic." He looked relieved when we were interrupted. "Ah, Lord Imrohil. Are you enjoying yourself in our fair city?"

I let the topic drop, much to Faramir's relief, but the beginnings of a plan were beginning to roll around in my mind. I excused myself from the men, and went to stand alone, looking out over the moonlit city as I sipped my drink and got lost in my thoughts. By the time Boromir found me and drew me back to the party, I had already formed a plan.

"King Elessar," I greeted with a curtsey. "May I borrow you for a moment?" He made his excuses to the lords he was speaking with, and followed me to a less occupied area of the room.

"Is anything amiss, Rose," he asked, noting the look of determination on my face.

"Yes," I replied. "Well, no, but I have a favor to ask."

"If it is in my power to give, then it is yours," he said, frowning.

I took a deep breath. "Aragorn, I need you to pass a law for me. I need you to pass a law that lets women inherit property. There are widows and orphans who are being kicked out of their homes, simply because they have no man to stand up for them. And because there is no law protecting them, it's all perfectly legal."

Aragorn sighed. "Rose, if I could, I would do so. But trying to pass a law like that so early in my reign would make me look weak, and right now Gondor needs stability and leadership."

"But this is wrong, and you know it. You have to do something –"

"I must do nothing," Aragorn snapped. "Your aid during the War was undeniable, but that does not mean that I must now bend to your every passing whim. Proposing a law like this to the Council would be political suicide. Those men have been raised with certain ideals, ideals that have been held for generations. And you want me to put it forth simply because YOU say so?"

I was silent for a moment after his outburst. "Two daughters, Aragorn." At my soft statement, he stopped rubbing his forehead and looked at me. "You will have two daughters and a son. And your daughters will be at the mercy of their husbands' goodwill. God forbid you pair them with wife beaters, because they will be chained like dogs to that man, powerless to protect themselves or their children if he leaves or dies. All because they lack male genitalia. This law won't level the playing field, but it will serve as a stepping stone. Pass the law, Aragorn. Pass the law that women can inherit."

He closed his eyes, and I could see that he was conflicted. Finally, he spoke. "Bring me something to offer the Council. Give me something I can use, and I give you my word that I will do my absolute best to see it passed."

I nodded and held out my hand. Recognizing the gesture by now, he grasped it and shook. "Thank you, Aragorn." He nodded grimly. "Now, come on, let's get back. And smile, would you? It wouldn't do to have the King look irritated at his own party."

We parted ways, and I went to rescue Legolas from what looked like a group of eligible husband-hunters. For the rest of the night, I did my best to be charming and gracious. Still, as I danced and flirted, I was making plans.


	31. Leverage

Dawn found me already up and searching through the city. In recent years, Minas Tirith had gradually emptied of people due to the War, and even with the sudden influx of visitors coming to celebrate the return of the King, there was no shortage of abandoned housing. I was looking for one that I could use as a laboratory of sorts.

Aragorn had said that he needed something to offer the Council if he were going to propose the law. I had to offer them something they would want badly enough that they would pass a law that went against generations of sexism.

I was going to offer them gunpowder.

My father had been a chemistry teacher and had raised his kids with a love of science. My childhood had consisted in large part of (sometimes dangerous) experiments in the basement of our home. One of the more memorable of these had been making gunpowder.

Luckily, Gondor had long been known for its gems and stonework. It wasn't a great leap to assume that a country that prided itself on its abundance of jewels would also have access to an assortment of organic compounds, namely sulfur, among others. The saltpeter would be the hardest to create, since we had used already purified compounds. Still, I was fairly confident I remembered enough from the book my father had taught us that I would be able to create it from natural sources. I was actually more concerned about how I would acquire the equipment I needed.

After only an hour of searching, I found a small, one room dwelling in the bowels of the city. It was far removed enough from the rest of the city that I wouldn't have to worry about any unannounced visitors, and, like most of the city, it was made entirely of stone, which meant I wouldn't have to worry about setting the thing on fire.

Laboratory secured, I returned to a market I had passed earlier in the morning, and found it now bustling with life. It was not on the, shall we say, more reputable side of town, but I didn't want to risk bumping into someone I knew and having to answer awkward questions. I drew many odd looks as I wandered through the market, since I was a) an obviously upper class woman, b) unescorted, and c) carrying two swords. Keeping a firm hand on my coin purse in case of pickpockets, I began to ask around for the supplies I needed. I didn't want to leave too much of a trail, so I made a point to acquire the materials in different shops.

As I passed into less and less populated areas of the city on the way back to my little lab, I began to realize I wasn't alone. I wasn't quite sure what to do. If I tried to lose them by taking allies and such, I risked getting lost myself. On the other hand, if I didn't, I would be forced to confront them at some point, possibly ending in a confrontation. If it came to that, I was fairly confident in my ability to take them in a fight, but I couldn't help remembering how my last battle had ended, and I wasn't keen to repeat the experience. When I noticed a second pursuer, I realized I wouldn't have a choice.

I turned a corner and set my packages down just inside the doorway of an abandoned house. Then I leaned against the wall to wait. It didn't take long.

The teenaged boy nearly ran into me as he rounded the corner. He couldn't be more than 15, if he was even that. He recovered from his surprise and whipped out a knife. "Give me your money and I won't hurt you." I guessed he was still probably new to this by the way his hand shook. He looked so uncertain that I almost felt bad for him as I calmly drew back one side of my cloak to reveal a sword.

"Run away, kid, and take your friend with you," I said dryly.

He hesitated, looking worried, but I guess he took a chance that I didn't actually know how to use the sword. Seeming to gather his courage, he held out his knife more firmly and stepped forward menacingly. "I mean it now. Hand over your purse," he insisted, his voice quavering only a little, and only at the beginning. I almost wanted to clap for him, but I thought that might send the wrong message. Instead, I rolled my eyes with a sigh and lazily drew my sword.

And then I tensed when I noticed movement in the corner of my eye. Lunging forward, I grabbed the kid and twisted his arm behind his back, forcing the knife from his hand. I held the sword to his throat and kept my back to the wall. "Whoever you are, I have your friend. Come out now and I won't harm him," I called. The kid was shaking with fear now. He was taller than me (but then, who isn't?), enough so that, though I was using him as a human shield, I had to stand partially exposed in order to see around him.

"I didn't come with no friends," he said shakily. I frowned, but bent his arm higher up his back to shut him up. "You're insane, that's wot," he exclaimed.

"And you're a very bad assailant," I muttered distractedly as I looked to where I had last seen the movement. "You have ten seconds to come out, or your friend dies," I called, desperately hoping they wouldn't call my bluff. I really didn't want to hurt the poor kid.

Luckily, my second pursuer revealed himself, holding his hands up in surrender as he stepped out from a doorway. He looked vaguely familiar. "I bear you no ill will, I assure you, my Lady. I was sent by Lord Boromir to follow you and protect you if necessary." My frown deepened, and I didn't release the boy.

"One, Boromir has no idea I'm here, and two, you aren't wearing the insignia of the Citadel Guard," I challenged. "If you're going to lie, you're going to have to do better than that."

The man shook his head again. "My uniform would have brought unwanted attention to me. I thought it wiser to dress thus," he explained, gesturing to his civilian clothes. "The Lord Steward assigned you a protection detail when he first returned to the city, with orders that we not let you know of our presence."

The boy began to shake with fear. With a sigh, I released him. "Leave now, before I change my mind." He took a few steps, then turned, looking at his knife on the ground. At my glare, he ran away as fast as his legs could carry him. I turned my attention back to the man, keeping my sword unsheathed. "Prove it," I said, returning to our conversation.

"Lord Boromir said if you caught us, we should say 'Son of a Bitch' and you would understand." I was so startled to hear the English curse that I started laughing. I usually only used it to reference Boromir when he was irritating me. How often must I say that for Boromir to pick up on it? It was obvious that neither man knew what it translated to in Common, which for some reason made it that much funnier.

Smiling to myself, I sheathed my sword and retrieved my packages. "Well, if you have you accompany me, you might as well be useful." I threw him one of the heavier packages and he caught it deftly. He looked surprised at how heavy it was.

"It feels like a ton of bricks," he muttered under his breath, obviously not intending me to hear.

I grinned at him. "Close. Rocks." Tucking the other packages under my arm, I held out my hand for him to shake. "Call me Rose. If I'm going to make you help me, then it's only right we dispense with formalities."

He tentatively grasped my hand. "I am Tauron. Milady – Rose," he amended at my pointed look, "what are we doing here? What do you plan to do with these things?" He held up the packages.

I started walking to my lab. "We are going to perform experiments with them," I said over my shoulder. "I'm trying to create something to use as a bargaining tool with the Council of Gondor." We didn't speak anymore until we reached the abandoned dwelling. We set the packages on the table, and began to unpack. The stone table was soon laden with scales, beakers, mixers, and various other odds and ends I thought might be useful.

My things spread out, I put on a pair of welder's goggles that I had picked up, letting them stay on my forehead for the time being. "I didn't get you a pair, but it shouldn't really matter for right now," I said, watching as he picked up the crystallized sulfur and sniffed it dubiously. "When I get a little further into my experiment, you'll probably want to stay outside for safety, but that shouldn't be for a few days yet. Hand me that. No, the other one."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo

For the next few days, Tauron would sit in the corner and watch as I tried to purify the chemicals I needed. I knew that my absence would not go unnoticed, but what I was doing was too important.

I had the benefit of centuries of experience, but it still took me a week and almost my entire supply of the stuff. I had made sure to purchase paper and a quill so that I could document everything. It was both frustrating and tedious, mind numbing work. Finally, though, I watched with relief as the moisture boiled off, leaving only a white powder in the beaker.

"YES!" My shout woke the snoring guard, who lunged forward with his sword drawn. Seeing only me, he glanced at the beaker I was hugging blissfully to my chest.

"What is it, my - Rose," he corrected himself. I began to pour the contents onto the scale, writing down the measurement.

"This, my dear, wonderful friend, is Potassium Nitrate." There was no translation for the words in Common, which really didn't surprise me. "Most just call it saltpeter. We are so close I can taste it."

I went home that night feeling like I had single-handedly brought down Sauron or something. I didn't even mind when Nerwende accosted me about the wedding.

The next few days were a flurry. With the wedding fast approaching, I found myself hiding out in that sad little dwelling as much as possible. Now that I was mixing the saltpeter with the charcoal and sulfur, I made Tauron wait outside. After the first day or two, he stopped bursting through the door every time there was an explosion. All I had to do was find the right combination, but it seemed determined to elude me. Either it was too weak, or too strong.

Suddenly, it was the week of my wedding. I was on the brink of perfecting the mixture, neglecting food and sleep in favor of working.

I bent over a piece of paper, recording the details of my latest mixture, when I heard the door open behind me. Since Tauron usually only bothered to check on me after particularly violent explosions, I turned to see what was the matter. I bit my lip when I saw Boromir standing in the doorway.

A very irritated Boromir.

I looked around, seeing the room as he must see it. Black soot from the explosions covered the table and walls. Debris from the more violent eruptions included chunks from the white stone walls. The table was covered in equipment and scattered papers and stains from where I'd tipped over my ink bottle. I myself was dressed in a long leather apron dotted with scorch marks and had one long blacksmith's glove on, the other having been removed so I could write. Soot smudged my face enough that there were discernable lines where my goggles protected my eyes during the experiments, though my goggles now rested on top of my head. I'd had the foresight to pull back my hair to keep it from lighting on fire, but having worked through the night, even my braid was disheveled. I imagined I somewhat resembled a mad scientist.

At that moment, I worried very much that Boromir might actually have me committed to the madhouse.

"Well, I'm glad this isn't awkward," I said sheepishly.

"You've been missing for two weeks," he commented, beginning to walk around the room. "When Master Nerwende complained that he could not find you, I simply assumed you were hiding from him. Certainly, I could not fault you for avoiding the man. And then Lady Eowyn commented that you had stopped meeting her, and I thought that perhaps you simply needed time alone before the wedding. But then Aragorn brought to my attention that you had come to him with a request during the Coronation Ball, and when he relayed what had transpired between the two of you, I realized you would view it as a challenge." I raised my hand to stop him when he picked up a beaker, but guiltily brought it back to my side. I felt like a child caught sneaking cookies or something. "I also realized that, being you, you would undoubtedly do something very stupid, and probably very dangerous." He set the beaker down and looked at me. "There are but three days before our wedding, and my lovely bride is nowhere to be found. Please, explain to me why I should not be worried."

"I know you're mad, and you have every right to be," I said. "But…well, let me show you." I took his hand and pulled him back behind the upturned table I had placed as a barrier, handing him a spare set of goggles I had picked up for Tauron, as well as small wads of cotton. "Put these on, stay here, and watch." Taking the latest batch of gunpowder, I poured it into a small pile in the fireplace, then attached a long cord of cotton. I lit the other end and hurled myself behind the table. I pulled on my goggles and packed cotton into my ears, then popped my head above the table just high enough that I could see. Curious, Boromir mimicked my actions.

The explosion was loud enough to make our ears ring through the cotton, and I whooped as a large crater appeared in the stone.

"What magic is this," Boromir said wonderingly as he gazed at the crater in disbelief.

"This, my love," I said grimly, staring at the fireplace, "is leverage."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o


	32. White Wedding

**A/N: Only a few more chapters to go!**

0o0o0o0o0o

The day of the wedding dawned bright and beautiful.

And LOUD.

The wedding of a Steward was an auspicious occasion, and it was tradition for the day of a royal marriage to be harkened with the clear ring of silver trumpets. There must have been one in the Tower of Ecthelion, because I woke up with start, then groaned and pulled the pillow over my ears. You'd think that my wedding day was the one day I would actually be allowed to sleep in, but evidently not.

There was knock on the door. "Go away," I groaned grumpily. Whoever it was ignored me, because I heard the door open and close, and footsteps up to the bed. "NO! It's too early!"

I lifted the pillow and peered out to see Eowyn. "You marry the Steward today, Rose. Time to get up."

"My wedding isn't until this afternoon. Shoo," I flapped my hand at her. Ignoring me again (this was becoming a habit, it seemed), she yanked the covers off the bed. Giving up, I stuck my tongue out at her, but climbed obediently out of bed. She tossed me a satin robe from the closet, and I obediently put it on over my nightgown, before letting her pull me into my drawing room.

"Gah!" There was, I kid you not, a GAGGLE of women there, most of whom I didn't recognize, and they all turned as one to look at me when we entered. It was actually a little startling to see so early in the morning.

Eowyn caught my alarmed look. "These are women from Boromir's family," she said, raising an eyebrow pointedly. "They came to help you get ready. Wasn't that kind of them?" Taking her hint, I obediently smiled warmly at the women.

"It was incredibly considerate of you to come," I said. "I hope to get to know you better throughout today." There was a titter of approval, and I knew I'd said the right thing for once.

The women pulled me forward into the great mass, and suddenly I was being hugged and kissed and fussed over. For a few minutes, it was overwhelming, but then I gradually began to enjoy the feeling of familial solidarity. It was their way of letting me know they accepted me. My smile became genuine, and I found myself laughing along with them. At some point, a group of maids brought in breakfast for the group, and we laughed and chatted over the meal. I raised my eyebrows as one of the family's matrons pulled out a flask."Trust me," she said as she poured a hearty amount into my tea, "you'll thank me later." Smiling, I drank and listened to the older women in the group tell stories about Boromir when he was young. I made mental notes to tease him mercilessly for them.

After breakfast, a bath was drawn for me. The women left me to enjoy it, and I could hear them laughing in the other room as I inhaled deeply from the rose-scented steam. I sank into the water and suppressed a moan of pleasure as the warmth seeped into my bones. It was early May, but the weather here was still chilly.

As I washed my hair and shaved, my thoughts turned to the people who should be here, but weren't. I missed my parents and my brothers and Lacy. I tried to think what we would probably have been doing if I were back home. The eight of us would probably have all gone to breakfast, and then Lacy, my mother, and I would go to a salon to have our hair, makeup, and nails done. Lacy would probably have been my Matron of Honor. And then my mother and I would have been alone as she helped me get into my wedding dress, and she would have given me the diamond necklace that had been in our family for generations. All the women in our family had worn it at their weddings. I submerged myself under the water, letting the liquid dull all sounds, and I let the calm wash over me. "Today is a day for joy, not sadness," I could hear my mother saying. "Now get out of that tub before you get all pruny!" I smiled at the thought, and pushed myself out of the tub.

After I dried off and put on my robe, I walked to the door and threw it open. "Ladies," I said with a grin, "shall we get me dressed?"

One of Boromir's younger cousins grabbed me and pulled me into the throng. "Let's do your hair. I'm thinking it should be hanging down."

An older aunt shook her head. "No, she should be regal, and have her hair up, with jewels in them. Rubies. Definitely rubies."

"Sapphires," said another woman, whose relation to Boromir I couldn't remember. "They'll bring out her eyes." Hands were touching and playing with my hair, and I smiled at the women, glad that I was going to be part of their family.

Somehow, I found myself being pushed into a chair in front of a mirror, and I watched with a smile as one of the younger women began to brush my hair. From somewhere, an intricate silver chain emerged, and it was draped across my forehead, with the two ends hiding somewhere in an equally intricate bun at the back of my head. A net, woven with light sapphires, was placed and pinned over the mound of hair. Then, I was pulled again from the chair, and laced into a corset. Someone dropped petticoats and crinolines over my head in rapid succession, and I thought that someone else was at my feet, arranging the skirts so that they would fall correctly, but I wasn't quite sure, because all I could see for the moment was white fabric. Somewhere, in the flurry of women and movement and fabric and laughter, my wedding dress appeared. There was a brief pause as all the women admired the dress, before someone asked "Why is it white?"

I couldn't restrain a laugh. "It's tradition, where I'm from, for a bride to wear white at her wedding, to symbolize her purity." I didn't add that I was no longer a virgin, but since my future husband had been the one to take it, I didn't think it counted. I stepped in the dress, and turned to look in the mirror as someone laced it up behind me.

It was pure white, trimmed with ivory satin, the White Tree embroidered in silver across the bodice. Sheer sleeves draped to the floor, and a satin belt rested across my hips, meeting in a square not in the middle and flowing down to the ground. The train was only a foot or two behind me, since I didn't relish the idea of tripping over it every time I turned around. Someone handed me the veil, clearly unsure of what its use was. "It's another tradition," I commented as I draped it carefully over my head. "It's to symbolize purity. The groom lifts the veil at the end of the ceremony to represent consummation of the marriage." I pinned it carefully, making sure not to mess up my hair. Finished, I lifted it back for the time being and stood. When I turned, I was surprised to find myself face to face with a smiling Faramir, dressed in full dress armor.

"You look stunning, Rose," he said, smiling warmly. "And I see you have managed to win the hearts of my aunts and cousins," he added dryly. I grinned back up at him, and he handed me a small box. "It is tradition in Gondor for the father of the groom to present the bride with a gift. As our father is not well, my brother asked me to do the honor." I opened the box, and my eyes widened as they fell on a delicate diamond necklace fashioned in the shape of a swan.

I looked back up at him. "This was your mother's, wasn't it? From the House of Dol Amroth." He nodded, still smiling. "It is absolutely beautiful, Faramir, and all the more so because it was hers. Would you," I asked, lifting my veil. As he clasped it around my neck, I couldn't resist asking, "How is Boromir?"

Faramir laughed and back as he finished. "Nervous as only a groom can be. Uncle Imrahil has had to give him something stronger than tea to relax him."

"We had to do the same with her," one of the cousins called out, and I blushed. Laughing, Faramir bowed graciously to us and took his leave. I noticed Eowyn had a positively dreamy look on her face as she watched him leave.

We followed shortly after, the women surrounding me with laughter and happy chatter as they escorted me to the stables. It was tradition for the bride to ride down through the city on a white mare, escorted by her family. Since I had no family, the Citadel Guard, in full dress armor, would be escorting me. I noted that several of them were drunk as skunks and singing bawdy songs, Tauron among them. One of the captains helped me up, and I had to balance carefully, as I was riding sidesaddle for the first time.

Minas Tirith, the white city filled as it was now with streamers and garlands, looked like a giant wedding cake as we began our slow procession through the city. The streets were lined with people singing together in an ancient Sindarin song, and though I couldn't understand the words, it was beautiful and cheerful. As we passed, spectators threw flowers on the ground in front of the horses. Some of the women even came and handed them to me, and as we neared the Gates of the City, I found I had a full bouquet of flowers.

The crowd followed us out onto the fields outside the gate, singing loudly. Legolas walked over and lifted me off the mare, kissing my veiled forehead before stepping away. For a moment, I looked up at the clear, cloudless blue sky, and then I kissed my hand, then held it up to the heavens, and hoped my mother would somehow receive my kiss, somehow sense that I was ridiculously happy. I stopped then, because there was still something wrong. Since my father wasn't there, and Aragorn was conducting the ceremony, I had originally decided that I would walk unescorted down the aisle. But now I looked at Frodo, who stood with the other members of the fellowship. After all we had been through, it was only right. "Will you give me away?"

If he was surprised, he covered it quickly. "It would be an honor," he said softly, holding out his four fingered hand. I grasped tightly, like a lifeline.

"Promise not to let me trip, ok?"

He smiled reassuringly at me."On my honor."

So, we turned hand-in-hand, and Frodo Baggins walked me down the aisle.

When I saw Boromir standing there with his brother, I couldn't help but think of the first time I'd seen Boromir in the dining hall of Imladris. I still couldn't understand why he had possibly chosen me. Seeing him now, so breathtakingly handsome in the full dress armor of the Steward of Gondor, it was all I could do not to run to him. It seemed take an eternity to reach him, but finally I found myself standing before him, and Frodo put my hand in Boromir's. I handed my bouquet to Eowyn, then clasped Boromir's hands with both of mine. Together, we knelt before the High King.

"Lords and Ladies, Citizens of Gondor," Aragorn's voice rang out,"we come here now to bind together two souls in the everlasting bonds of marriage. Here, in view of us all, they shall speak their vows. What the gods' have brought together, let no man part. We shall now hear your vows."

"Rose, daughter of Donald, when I first saw you in Imladris, I was captivated by your spirit and your love of life. I remember watching you in the Hall of Fire as you seemed to glow with happiness and laughter, and I wondered how a creature so pure could have crossed my path. In the days and months that followed, you showed strength of will that I have never seen before. You never lost that light or strayed from your path, but instead brought hope to me in my darkest hours. Now, I look at the woman before me, so beautiful that it makes my heart ache, and I wonder that you have chosen me. I vow to you, and to the people of Gondor, and to my King and my gods, that I will spend the rest of my life loving you, and striving to be worthy of your love in return." I had started crying when he brought up the Hall of Fire, and smiled at him now through my tears as he took my hand and slid a thin gold band next to my engagement ring. My voice shook as I began to speak my own vows.

"Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, you are a man of honor and strength and fierce loyalty. I knew all of those things before I met you. But I did not know that you were my soul mate. We have been through trials no one should have to face, but we faced them together. You have become my best friend, my confidant, my partner, and my protector. You saved my life in the Anduin, and again in battle, when I spurned death itself to come back to you. Our love is the stuff of legends and epic ballads. I vow to you, and to the people of Gondor, and to my King and my God, that I will spend the rest of my life loving you, and striving to be worthy of your love in return." Eowyn handed me a thick gold band, and I slid it onto Boromir's finger.

Aragorn's voice was soft as he spoke to us, his words for our ears only. "My friends, you have fought through unsurpassable trials and heartache to get here. There are no others more worthy of joy than the two of you." He raised his voice then, so that all could hear. "So mote it be. Rise now as Man and Wife."

Boromir and I stood, and he lifted my veil back from my face. Then he took me in his arms, and a surprised laugh escaped me, as well as our onlookers, when he suddenly dipped me, and we kissed, at long last, as husband and wife.

The crowd was roaring with cheers and whoops and applause when Boromir set me back on my feet, and I couldn't help laughing again, simply because I was happy. We were both grinning stupidly from ear to ear and laughing as we walked down the aisle hand in hand. Trumpets were sounding from somewhere in the city as we reached Boromir's great black stallion. He mounted gracefully, then one of the soldiers lifted me up, and Boromir pulled me into his lap. I found myself sidesaddle again, and clung to Boromir's arms for balance as I arranged my skirt, waiting as the Guard of the Citadel formed behind us, and we began the long trek back through the city.

The noise was deafening as we progressed, making the stallion skittish. I was grateful that Boromir was the one controlling the horse, since he seemed to have no trouble handling him even with one arm wrapped around me to keep me balanced. When the crowd began chanting for us to kiss, we laughed and my new husband laid one on me, much to the pleasure of the women and young girls. This happened several more times as the wedding party made its way up the seven layers of the city, eliciting cheers each time.

Finally, we made it to the Tower of Ecthelion, the guards saluting us formally as we passed. A soldier was waiting for us, and saluted before taking the horse's reins. Boromir climbed off, then turned and reached up to help me off. As the rest of the wedding procession hadn't yet made it up to us yet, we finally had a moment to ourselves where we could talk without yelling.

"Hey, guess what," I said with a wink as I followed Boromir into the grand ballroom, which was lined with tables, a few servants doing last minute preparations. He pulled me to a stop just inside the doors, putting his hands on my waist and pulling me close. "You, sir, are now my husband," I said, poking his breastplate.

"And you, Lady, are now my wife," he said before claiming my mouth again. I couldn't resist a girly sigh of satisfaction when he began kissing my jaw.

"They'll be here any second," I said breathlessly, but then I kissed him again just because I could. We were starting to get really into it when the guests began to arrive, and we sprang apart like guilty teenagers. The party began in earnest, and Boromir and I were pulled apart by well wishers.

"Oh, you look so beautiful," said a young girl, probably no more than 12, as she grabbed my arm. "It was so romantic when he lifted your veil up. And then when he kissed you." She sighed dreamily, and I smiled, beginning to thank her, but was interrupted by someone else.

"You are a vision of elegance and beauty, dear. You and the Steward make such a handsome couple," said the older woman.

"I have decided to wear white to my own wedding in September. When the sun caught it, you just seemed to glow," said a woman who looked roughly my age. I gave up trying to thank anyone, and simply smiled and nodded.

In the crowd of women I didn't know, I saw Eowyn making her way to me, and caught her arm. "Help me with my veil?" She nodded and began to unpin it while I continued to smile and listen to the women. She smacked my arm when I started to move.

"What should I do with it," she asked when I was free of it. We both looked around, but there was nowhere to discreetly dump it, and I didn't want to lose it.

"Um, just pin it underneath the hair net thingy," I suggested. She started to pin it, but seemed to be having trouble.

"Lassie, you are securing it wrong. It will never stay like that," said a woman behind me. I assume she took over pinning it, because suddenly Eowyn was in front of me. I raised my eyebrows in question, and she shrugged at me. Being the bride, I guess more women wanted to start helping, because suddenly several pairs of hands were jabbing pins into my head. When I was finally released, I was positive that God himself couldn't have removed that sucker. I didn't relish the thought of taking it out at the end of the night.

"Thank you, ladies," I said, resisting the urge to rub my scalp. "You are very kind." I wished I were tall enough to see over the throng of ladies, but the people of Gondor tend to be tall, and most of them topped me by a good few inches. Tuning back into the chatter, I began to explain the white dress and veil tradition.

There was a momentary break in the crowd, and I managed to catch sight of my husband. Boromir was surrounded by men, probably doing the same thing the women were, but he caught my eye and raised an eyebrow. I smiled and shrugged. Then the gap closed, and I was forced to turn my attention back to the women.

After several more minutes of this, I noticed someone was fighting their way through the barricade of women. "Legolas!"

He finally broke through, and addressed the women, bowing. "My humblest apologies, Ladies, but I have been sent to collect the blushing bride." I wanted to kiss him as he put my hand on his arm and pulled me through the crowd. I was surprised when he didn't lead me to Boromir or to Aragorn, but through a door. My questions were answered when we entered a room and I saw Gimli, Gandalf, and the hobbits sitting there. As soon as Legolas shut the door behind us, Merry shoved a flask into my hands.

"Oh thank God," I muttered, to the amusement of the men.

"Aragorn is distracting the crowd for the moment, but you only have a few minutes before they notice you are not in the Hall," he said as Gimli offered me his seat. I collapsed into the chair, instantly regretting it when my corset stays dug into me. Unable to slouch, I rubbed my side and took a long swig, nearly choking on the whiskey.

"Boromir has already been in here," added an amused Gandalf dryly, leaning against the fireplace. "Indeed, he appeared as though he has already indulged."

"I can't blame him," I said, taking another swig. "Those women are all very sweet, and very well meaning, but it's incredibly overwhelming. My cheeks hurt from smiling." They chuckled.

"I imagine you will be surrounded by sighing and nostalgic women for the next several hours," chuckled Gandalf.

"Oh, I prefer those to advice-happy matrons," I groaned. "My cheeks are still burning from embarrassment just remembering."

"Why do you think they call them blushing brides," Gimli chuckled. I laughed.

"I should get back out there, shouldn't I," I said, sighing as I stood.

"I'll take that," said the wizard, plucking the flask from my hands.

"Damn it," I cursed, snapping my fingers, "'I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for you meddling kids!'" Not for the first time, they looked at me confused. "Scooby Doo..eh, never mind," I said, before opening the door and heading back into the fray.

This time, I slipped away to join Boromir before I could get mobbed again. The ballroom was packed with people now, making it much harder to find him. As I tried to politely push through the crowd, people would start conversations with me, and as the bride, not to mention the Steward's wife, I was obligated to chat politely with everyone. I would graciously excuse myself from a group, only to find myself waylaid by another. The whiskey was making me a little more talkative, though, so I didn't mind so much.

As the afternoon progressed, I could tell more and more of the wedding guests were getting drunk. I did my best to restrain myself, since no one likes a drunk bride, but with all the drinks being pushed on me, I was feeling a little tipsy. I could only imagine what state Boromir would be in if I ever actually managed to find him.

In the end, we ended up being called to dinner. Boromir met me at the High Table, and pulled out my chair for me before sitting down himself. He was no longer wearing his armor. "I've been looking for you all afternoon, but I kept getting waylaid," I commented as the guests took their seats.

"As have I," he replied. "Some of our more inebriated guests have taken to giving me marital advice." He leaned in to whisper in my ear, his hand slipping under the tablecloth to rub my knee. "Much of which I shall enjoy implementing tonight." I blushed hard, and quickly took a hearty sip of wine so that I wouldn't giggle. When everyone was seated, Aragorn, on the other side of Boromir, stood, and a hush fell over the ballroom.

"As King, and Guardian to the lovely bride, I would like to thank everyone for coming. I know many of you have journeyed far to share this joyful day with us." I tried very hard to ignore Boromir's hand sneaking ever so slowly up my leg. "Gondor has a tradition wherein the bride and groom must kiss whenever someone toasts. I trust many of you will enjoy this tradition throughout the night." Laughter rang through the room, and I risked a glance at Boromir. He was looking innocent, the bastard. "I would like to start off this tradition. I was the first person to meet Rose when she came to these lands, and I have felt somewhat responsible for her since. A kinder soul cannot be found in any land. She has, on many occasions, willingly risked her life for a friend in need. So, too, has the Lord Steward, for a nobler, more honorable man does not exist. He is a hardened warrior, one of the great leaders of men, and has never quailed from death or war. He is my most trusted advisor, and a greater general I have never seen. Yet, I have seen one word or look from her soften him. And my lovely ward, a woman who fearlessly leads kings into battle, a woman who I sometimes think physically incapable of taking orders," he looked at me here, his tone teasingly beleaguered, and the crowd chuckled, "and is the most stubbornly independent woman I have ever met – "

"That's enough describing me," I called out, eliciting laughter.

"This woman would do anything for him, for she is as wrapped around his finger as he is around hers. To the happy couple," he said, holding his goblet aloft. The crowd followed suit. "Boromir, may you have better luck managing her than I ever did." We all laughed and applauded and drank, though I made sure Aragorn caught my dry look as he took his seat again. But then Boromir was kissing me, and I didn't so much care anymore.

Prince Imrahil stood then, as the oldest representative from Boromir's line. "I, too, would like to make a toast. I have known the Lord Steward all his life. He has excelled in everything he has ever done, from combat to politics, and as a prince of Gondor, I could not choose a better or more worthy man to lead our armies or advise our High King. He has devoted his life to his people, and has valiantly led our great country to victory countless times over the years. And though I do not know his new bride as well as I should like, what I have seen of her shows that my nephew could not have chosen a better mate. To the happy couple and their new life together." I took great satisfaction in kissing my new husband again. I could grow to like this tradition.

Over the course of the meal, the guests, including our friends and family, took great amusement in toasting us every five minutes, just to see us kiss. Boromir, for his part, seemed bound and determined to embarrass me. When we weren't kissing after a toast, he was running his hand over my leg under the tablecloth, or whispering suggestions in my ear that set my face on fire. When several members of our table began to tease me on how red my face was, I decided to retaliate. Leaning over, I whispered a suggestion that involved rope and quite a bit of chocolate, and smiled when Boromir choked into his glass of wine.

In Gondor, there was no such thing as a wedding cake, and since it had never been important to me, I hadn't bothered to include one in the reception. So after dinner was finished, Boromir led me to the center of the ballroom for our first dance as husband and wife. All the wine had made me giggly, and it was all I could do not to laugh nervously as we waited for the other couples to join us. Dancing still wasn't something I was confident about, and with my noted lack of coordination, I doubted it ever would be.

"Boromir, don't let me screw up," I said nervously. He grinned, but inclined his head in acknowledgment as the music began. As always, Boromir was as good as his word, and even when I forgot the steps, he guided me so skillfully that I don't think anyone noticed. This dance involved quite a bit of spinning on the part of the ladies, and by the time it ended, the twirling and the wine had left me dizzy. Boromir didn't seemed fazed at all, though, and deftly escorted me off the floor and into the crowd.

I wanted very badly to get a moment alone with him, but the guests had other ideas. Boromir was pulled away by some of his officers, ostensibly to drink some more, and I found myself being pulled into different groups again, and was asked to dance, or to join conversations. This, at least, was somewhat of a blessing. At one point during the evening, I found myself talking to a middle aged scholar, Lord Handir, who was very interested in the science and literature of where I lived. I tried to be as vague as possible, but continued the conversation, interested in Gondor's understanding of science. I may not have been a scholar in my own world, but the centuries of knowledge gained in a typical 21st century high school education damn near made me one in Gondor. We ended up getting into a heated but friendly debate about the laws of physics, and I found I had a very high respect for this man. The discussion must have lasted a while, because we both began to get a little tipsy from nursing our drinks.

I was in the middle of cheerfully telling him to get stuffed, when I was suddenly swung around and kissed. Laughing, I pushed myself away, but Boromir kept an arm around my waist. "You're drunk," I observed, highly amused.

"I am not drunk," he corrected. "I am a gentleman. Gentlemen get foxed. And I am very foxed."

I was surprised again, this time by an equally drunk Faramir, who swung his arm around me and kissed my forehead loudly. "My sister," he said cheerfully, "you are beautiful and intelligent and brave. Just like my lovely Eowyn. Handir!" He exclaimed, seeing the amused scholar. "My old friend. You clearly have not had enough to drink."

"I take it you two have been celebrating," Handir said dryly.

"Indeed we have," Boromir said, raising his goblet happily. "I'm married!"At this, he pulled me in for another kiss. When we broke away, I decided it was high time for us to call it a night, because I desperately wanted to get my husband alone.

Evidently, Boromir felt the same way. "I suggest we give our regards and thanks to King Elessar," he murmured.

"Couldn't agree more. Excuse us, gentlemen," I said to the men chuckling at us. Boromir guided me through the crowd with a hand on the small of my back, and I couldn't help smiling at the possessive action. We found Aragorn in the back room, smoking a pipe with Gandalf and the hobbits. Legolas and Gimli were nowhere to be found.

Boromir bowed to the king. "Your majesty, I beg permission to take my bride home for the night," he said formally.

"Gladly granted," Aragorn said, smiling as he clapped Boromir on the shoulder. We said our goodbyes and left, beginning the trek to Boromir's townhouse. We passed several drunken revelers on our journey through the darkened streets, many of them stopping to drunkenly offer congratulations. When we finally reached the house, it was incredibly late. We were almost to the door when Boromir surprised me yet again.

"Lady Eowyn has told me of one more tradition that you mentioned to her," he said. I looked at him in question. "She said that it was considered bad luck for a bride to stumble crossing the threshold to her new home, and that the groom should carry her across it with the utmost care." I yelped in surprise, and laughed as Boromir scooped me up. He nodded to the grinning guards, and they opened the large doors to the house. We passed through the threshold without incident, and then I focused on kissing my new husband as he carried me up to our bedroom.


	33. The Council of Gondor

Boromir and I spent the entire next day in bed. There were no such things as honeymoons in Middle Earth, especially after something as destructive as the War of the Ring. Minas Tirith was still under repair, and the rest of Gondor was in turmoil from the arrival of the King. There was no way someone as powerful and essential as the Steward of Gondor could be away for a week. Still, we had at least one day to ourselves, and we made the most of it. I don't know if you have ever spent the entire day naked in bed with your husband, but I highly recommend it.

After that, we both got back to work, but life was perfect. In the mornings, I would wake up wrapped in my husband's strong arms, and we would help each other get dressed, sometimes winding up back in bed. We would part ways for the day; he was off to Council meetings and the like, and I was finishing my presentation to the Lords of Gondor. Then night came, and we met back at home, always going to bed early, but not to sleep.

As Steward and right hand to the King, Boromir was often called upon to host dinner parties so that Aragorn could meet and influence certain Lords and whatnot. Lord Handir was often present at these, and the two of us could usually be found debating each other by the fireplace. My inability to read was becoming a growing source of frustration and embarrassment. Many nights, Handir would bring over scrolls or books and would have to read them aloud to me, and he commented on more than one occasion that he was surprised such a learned and influential woman was illiterate. While education was generally limited to history and basic math for women, the vast majority of titled ladies in Gondor were brought up learning both Sindarin and Common.

For weeks as I worked, I fought an internal war with myself. Should I really introduce guns into Middle Earth? Wasn't I supposed to follow Canon? Tolkien had been clear in his themes of guns versus the purity of nature. Yet on the other hand, this was clearly no elaborate story concocted by a soldier. He had written the history of a war, nothing more. There were no themes to respect, no almighty Canon. Gondor was my home, and I had bought and died beside the soldiers that protected it. As a citizen, and as the wife of their Steward, I had an obligation to give them the best weapons and skills I could. If it saved even one life, it was worth it. If I were back in 21st century America, creating a weapon for the soldiers that defended me, there wouldn't be a question in my mind.

It took weeks, but eventually, my presentation was ready, and it was with great apprehension that I had requested an audience with the Council of Gondor. Now, Tauron was watching me uninterestedly as I paced restlessly, pulling at my uncomfortable dress as I waited for the Council to join me on the fields outside the city. I had prepared my presentation for weeks, and had been so anxious that I had barely been able to eat, even throwing up this morning in my nervousness. All my equipment was set up around me, including a suit of armor, a giant stack of hay, a round ball, a crude musket of my own making, and an assortment of other things. It had been far harder to fashion the musket than anything else, even with my experience with guns, and I had quickly gotten on a first name basis with my blacksmith as I tried to perfect the barrel and springs. With Handir's assistance, I had even managed to find an engineer to help with the exact dimensions and the like, since I was no good at math myself. Eventually, I saw the Lords approaching on foot. I had warned them not to bring horses, as the noise would probably scare them away, possibly even injuring someone.

Boromir had impressed upon me the need for formality when addressing the Council, and so when they were all gathered, I curtsied low to Aragorn, flaring out my skirts and bowing my head. "Thank you for taking the time to see me, my Lords," I said as I rose. "As my Lord Husband has informed you, I have a proposition to present to you. Lord Handir has done me the great honor of presenting my case before the Council, so I will not delay you now with a long speech. Instead, I believe my work will speak for itself." Many of the men looked doubtful, but most seemed curious. "I bring before you a great tool. Gondor is a country built on stone, and my invention will easily aid in excavation, which will doubtlessly help to improve trade in your respective states. If you would please step behind the hay stacks, I shall begin my demonstration." I saw that I had piqued their curiosity, and suppressed a smile as they took their places. "Turn your eyes now to the slab of stone on my left. A small hole has been drilled in the top, but it is in no other way compromised." They nodded and watched as I carefully poured the black powder into the hole and sealed it so only a cord of cotton was left. When I was satisfied that it was sealed, I carefully lit the cord and quickly retreated behind the haystacks. For a second, nothing happened, and I was terrified that maybe the fuse had gone out or something. But then there was a massive explosion, and the rock shattered violently. Boromir crossed his arms, but I caught a small smile spread across his face as the Council exclaimed in surprise and amazement. So far so good.

I returned to my place in front of the men, and handed out a few pieces of the stone. "My invention is called gunpowder, or black powder, and is made from resources easily and cheaply acquired in Gondor. It is an explosive substance, and it works in mining by causing a sudden explosion of air inside the stone. But it is not the businessmen that I appeal to in my next demonstration; instead, it is the soldiers. Everyone here has seen battle, and has learned to greatly respect the power of long distance weapons, such as the longbow and the pike." I officially had their undivided attention now, and I put my hand on the musket. "This is called a gun. It is the same basic idea of an archer, in that it is designed to take out an enemy before they reach you by impaling them with a projectile. In this case, the projectile is a bullet. The types of bullets vary, but the two that you will see here are the classic musketball, which is simply a small metal ball that punches a hole through the enemy, and the hollow point, which is more expensive to produce, but more destructive, as it flattens on impact, making much bigger wound." As I spoke, I handed out the two bullets, watching it pass through the crowd as I readied the musket. I waited until I had their attention again before bringing the gun to my shoulder. "You might want to cover your ears for this particular demonstration," I said. Kneeling for stability, I repositioned the gun so that the recoil didn't hurt my shoulder, then took careful aim at the suit of armor and fired.

For a moment, all I could see was smoke, but the wind quickly carried it away, and I got to my feet, trying not to roll my shoulder. As many times as I had shot this gun in experiments, you'd think I'd be used to it by now. For one horrible moment, I was terrified that I had missed or something. I set the gun carefully on its stand, and went to gather the armor, exhaling a sigh of relief when I saw the hole piercing both the front and back breastplates. I picked up the armor and took it to the men, setting it down on one of the stacks of hay for their inspection as I continued my presentation. "I used a standard musketball for this one. With this gun, you can hit a target about a hundred yards away with a reasonable allowance for wind and such. You can also attach a type of knife, called a bayonet, to the end of the musket that would turn it into a spear for close combat."

While the men were inspecting the armor, I caught Boromir's eye. He had known what I had been doing with my research, but hadn't actually seen a demonstration. He gave me a small smile now and inclined his head, an indication that I was doing well. I smiled in return, then addressed the Council again."And now I have one last demonstration to make, but I need you gentlemen to pay careful attention." There was still discussion in the back, and I cleared my throat pointedly. When they still didn't shut up, I coughed loudly into my fist, and when that didn't work, I switched tactics, annoyed. "Hey you! Yes, you. Would you like to pay attention now, or should we all wait for you to finish?" The two men looked shocked, and I instantly regretted my rudeness. I hurried on, hoping that my outburst hadn't destroyed my chances of getting the law passed. "What I'm about to show you now is very dangerous. I'm going to ask you all to step back, and when I say duck, everyone needs to hit the ground and cover their heads. Is that clear?" I waited until they all nodded before continuing. I picked up a small black metal ball with a fuse sticking out the top. "This is called a grenade. It is made of stone, and is based on the same principle I showed you in my first presentation." I lit the fuse, then hurled the ball as hard as I could away from everyone. It landed about 50 yards away, and rolled. "Duck!"

For a moment, nothing happened as the fuse disappeared into the ball, but then the gunpowder ignited and it detonated violently, sending black shards in every direction. When the dust and smoke settled, I stood up. "Ok, it's safe to stand. Now imagine throwing that into a group of enemies. Obviously, this device can't be used in an area where there is mixed fighting, but if you threw it, say, into a room, or into an advancing troop, the effect would be deadly. It would be deadlier still if you had a group of them and catapulted them into enemy troops. Now, the fuse length can be changed to increase the distance the grenade can travel before it detonates, but if the fuse is too long, someone might pick it up and throw it back. Does anyone have any questions?"

One of the Lords stepped forward, and I recognized him from a dinner party. I recalled his name was Lord Saeros. Aragorn and Boromir exchanged a look. "I have a question. You say that these inventions are of your own making?" I nodded. "And you claim you had no help?"

"Actually, I hired an engineer to help me with some of the more technical aspects of the schematics, but other than that, no." A feeling of unease was starting to rise within me.

"So, you did have help." The older man's eyes seemed to bore into me, and I shifted uncomfortably.

"I suppose technically I did, yes."

"How do we know that you did not simply steal these ideas from this engineer? After all, it is well known that you cannot read even simple words, so how is it possible that an illiterate woman, of all things, has envisioned such devices?"

I frowned in confusion, feeling like I was walking into a trap, and I looked at Boromir, but he had closed his eyes in what looked like resignation. I tried to tamp down the panic that was rising in me, swallowing hard. "These are my ideas," I protested. "I didn't steal them from anyone. And yeah, I suppose I can't read Common or Sindarin, but I am perfectly literate in my own language."

"Of course you are," he said patronizingly, before turning the rest of the Council. "Gentlemen, please consider this before you give into this woman. She clearly seeks to control the Council for her own purposes. Now, I ask you, why should we enact this silly law, when we can get all these things from the engineer she," he paused here, and looked at me with a condescending smile, "_hired?"_

"I did not steal this," I said coldly. "These are my ideas. But fine, go to the engineer and steal my work. Take the schematics, and may you find some use for them, because no one but me knows my formula for gunpowder, and without this law, you won't get it."

"So the truth comes out," he said triumphantly. "By her own admission she seeks to control the Council like puppets on a string. You cannot give in to this woman and pass this heretical law."

Tears of frustration stung my eyes, but I blinked them back and raised my chin stubbornly, knowing that if I cried in front of these men, it would undermine everything I had been working for. "I am not trying to control anyone. I offered a fair trade, one that could conceivably save the lives of your soldiers, and in return, I ask only that women and children not be forced from their homes."

"If women were supposed to inherit, our forefathers would have allowed them to. Because they did not, we must assume that they knew it was a dangerous idea," he said soothingly to the Council. Many of the members were frowning now, glancing back and forth between the two of us. I couldn't think of anything to say, my mind cloudy with anger and frustration.

Aragorn broke in at last. "My Lords, I suggest we continue this debate inside the Council Chamber." The men began to follow the High King back to the city, and I started to disassemble my equipment and pack up. It was all I could do not to burst into angry, humiliated tears, but I was damned if I would let that ass see me cry. If I was going to cry, this was no place to do it, in front of Tauron and the guards on the wall. Besides, if they didn't pass the law, there was nothing more I could do about it. I had laid my cards on the table and had no more tricks up my sleeve. For right now, I had to pull it together until I was in private.

I fumed as Tauron and I made our way through the city. This was wrong, and stupid, and total bull. That conniving jerk was manipulating the Council the same way he had manipulated me. By suggesting that I was trying to control the men, they had no choice but to refuse me to show they weren't weak. When we finally made it back to the house, the guards opened the door for us, and I headed straight to the dining room, laying everything on the table and directing Tauron to do the same. As he put down his burden, I leaned over the table and closed my eyes.

"Take the rest of the day off, Tauron," I said tiredly. "I'm not going anywhere." I heard his footsteps head to the door, and I stopped him. "Tauron?"

"My Lady?"

"Please don't mention to anyone what happened."

"On my honor, my Lady." There was silence for a moment. "If I may be so bold, it is well known among the men that Lord Saeros is an ass. There is no doubt in my mind that you did not steal that work, and I would swear it before the Council."

I raised my head and gave him a weak smile. "Thank you, Tauros. I hope it doesn't come to that." He bowed deeply, and took his leave.

When he was gone, I walked up to the bedroom and sat on the bed. And then, after holding it in for so long, I put my head in my hands and began to cry, sobbing tears of fury and helplessness and frustration. This was so unfair that it hurt. I sobbed so hard and for so long I made myself sick, and barely made it to the trashcan in the corner before vomiting violently. A chambermaid must have heard me, because she came in and held my hair back as I emptied my stomach, handing me a handkerchief when I finished.

"Don't worry, my Lady," she said soothingly as I wiped my face. "My sister was sick all day, too, when she was pregnant with her son."

"I'm not –" I started, but then I stopped. It was true I hadn't had my period this past month, but then, I'd never been regular. And sure, I'd been queasy for a while, and had even thrown up this morning, but all that was from nervousness. Wasn't it? It had only been a month since my wedding. Surely it was too early for symptoms. _But that wasn't the first time you and Boromir slept together_, said a niggling voice in the back of my mind.

"Son of a bitch," I said, meaning it with every fiber of my being. But then I was too busy throwing up again to say anything for a while.

0o0o0o0o0o0o


	34. The Happy Ending!

There was someone stroking my hair. I smiled and stretched languorously before bothering to open my eyes. Boromir was sitting on the bed in front of me, looking as tired as I felt as he stroked my hair. Our eyes met, and I rolled onto my back, catching his hand to press a kiss to it. A glance to the window told me that night had fallen.

"The Council has been in session all day debating your law," he said as I lay there. "Lord Saulos has a great deal of influence, but your demonstration made quite an impression. You seem to have acquired friends among the nobility. For every argument he or his associates make against the law, there seems to be an equally persuasive rebuttal regarding the need for your project. Aragorn dismissed the Council for the night, but we reconvene in the morning." He rubbed his face tiredly. "Sometimes I find myself wishing I were back on a field of battle. At least there, you know who your friends are."

I sat up and kissed his cheek before starting to massage his shoulders. "Clearly, there is only one option here." He grunted, and I took that as a sign to continue. "Clearly we have to kill him." Startled, Boromir turned around to look at me in shock, and I raised my eyebrow at him before he realized I was teasing.

"Don't tempt me, woman. After his treatment of you this morning, it was all I could do not to use your device to shoot him myself."

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. "Oooh, you know how much I love a protective man," I teased.

He rolled his eyes. "Do not let it go to your head. If you had spent all day in a sweltering Council Chamber listening to the old man ramble on for hours, you probably _WOULD _have shot him." I kissed his head, but didn't disagree. He was probably right. "Have you supped yet," he asked as he pulled me into his lap.

"Not yet," I said. "I was waiting for you. Actually, there is something slightly more urgent that I wanted to speak to you about."

"'_More urgent',_ Madam?" He said incredulously as I climbed off his lap and stood.

"Don't smirk at me, you egotist," I retorted, beginning to pace nervously. Boromir raised an eyebrow as he watched me. "The last few days, I've been feeling really sick to my stomach, and then I threw up twice today, and then one of the maids said something, and I went to the Houses of Healing, but they said there was no real way to know for a while, but that they were pretty positive," I babbled as I wrung my hands. Boromir frowned and stood, taking my hands in his as he stopped me.

"Spit it out, Rose. You've never been any good at buildup." I looked up at him nervously.

"I think my eggo is preggo."

He frowned and looked at me wariliy. "I can honestly say I did not understand a word of that."

"I'm pregnant, Boromir." When he didn't say anything, I began to pace again, tears filling my eyes as I worried my dress. "I mean, we've been going at it like bunnies. What did we think was going to happen when we auditioned for the Karma Sutra Olympics without using any protection? But I was so distracted that I didn't notice anything, and then I started throwing up, and then the maid put the idea in my head, and so I went to Ioreth, and she confirmed it, and now I can't STOP noticing things, like my boobs hurt and I'm always sick to my stomach and the pork cooking in the kitchen smells bad and I want a Twinkie but GONDOR DOESN'T HAVE THEM!" My voice had gradually been getting higher and higher in pitch as I spoke, finally ending up in a wail as I burst into tears and buried my face in my hands.

Boromir, for his part, had been listening in shock this entire time, and now burst into laughter and pulled me into his arms and rubbed my back. "I shall be a father," I heard him breath as I buried my face in his chest. And then he whooped and lifted me in the air, grinning like an idiot and spinning me around in his delight. "I will be a father," he yelled, and then we were both laughing.

He set me down and kissed me. Then fear clouded his face, and he scooped me up again and set me on the bed, frantically putting pillows around me. "Are you ok? I shouldn't be flinging you about like that in your condition. Is it too cold in here? I can start a fire. What am I thinking? It is already too warm in here. I shall open the window."

At this point, I was laughing so hard I couldn't catch my breath. "Boromir, calm down. I'm not fragile, and I'm not gonna break," I said, laughing at the frantic father-to-be as I climbed out of the bed. I took his face in my hands. "Ioreth was the one who saw me, and she said that I'm healthy as the proverbial horse."He kissed my forehead.

"We should celebrate," he said.

"We should," I agreed. "But right now, I need you to do me a favor."

"Anything," he said promptly, making me smile at his enthusiasm.

"Feed me. Seriously, my stomach thinks my throat's been cut." Boromir laughed and kissed me again.

0o0o0o0o

I ate ravenously, much to Boromir's amusement. Throughout the meal, the staff kept offering us congratulations, which we accepted with grace. As we ate, we chatted easily about names and the Council and my experiments and further plans and even Boromir's horse, and Boromir wouldn't stop staring at me.

"We should visit Dol Amroth," he said suddenly. I stopped the goblet half way to my mouth and cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I don't think that's going to convince your horse to stop biting people," I said dryly before bringing the goblet the rest of the way to my lips. He rolled his eyes and shot me a look, and I grinned into my goblet.

"Before the birth, I want to take you to Dol Amroth. It is one of the wonders of Gondor, and I am sure my uncle would very much like to show you his home. As children, Faramir and I spent many summers there with our mother, when the Kings of Gondor returned to their provinces."

"I thought you couldn't leave Minas Tirith," I said as I hacked at a particularly stubborn piece of meat.

"The Council will be disbanding soon to see their homes through the harvest season. Imrahil has mentioned his plans to return home within the week. Aragorn seems to have acclimated himself to his station, and Faramir shall be here if he requires assistance. The trip should be only a month or two; I can be spared that long, at least."

."Ok," I said with a shrug. Boromir looked surprised.

"I expected you to insist on staying here for the duration of the pregnancy," he said by way of explanation. I gave up on the meat and offered it to Boromir, who shook his head.

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "Babe, I'm pregnant, not bedridden. Besides, after everything we have been through, what's the worst that could happen? Plus, so long as you're there, you'll take care of me." I could practically see his male ego inflate, and I shook my head with a smile. "I do need a favor from you, though," I said. "Arwen and her wedding escort will be arriving in the next few days, and I wanted to let Aragorn know. With everything going on, I completely lost track of time. If you don't mind, I'd like you to help me write a letter to Aragorn telling him about their arrival."

Boromir nodded at a butler in the corner, who left to get pen and paper. "Come, let us sit by the fire," he said, standing and pulling out my chair. I followed him to a couch that sat in front of the hearth. "Who will be escorting Arwen besides her father?" He sat on one side of the cough, watching with amusement as I repositioned him, then sat so I could lean against him with my feet tucked under me.

"Everyone, actually," I replied as I wrapped his arm around me. "The entire household of Rivendell. Plus, they stopped in Lothlorien, so Galadriel and Celeborn will be here as well. They'll arrive on Midsummer's eve, and Aragorn and Arwen will get married the next day."

"So soon," he asked. "Engagements typically last a year out of tradition. You and I were the exception simply because the Council wanted to use the wedding to boost morale. Faramir and Eowyn will not be married until next summer, at least."

. "Do you know the story of Aragorn and Arwen?"

"I confess that I do not," he admitted with a shrug. "I know only that he loves her greatly."

I smiled and grabbed a pillow, placing it on his lap and scooting my butt down so that my head rested on his lap. "Get cozy, my love, and I shall give you an education about the royal couple. Arwen is known by her people as Undomiel."

"Evening Star," Boromir translated as he stroked my hair.

I nodded. "From what everyone says, she's the spitting image of Luthien. In fact, her lineage is much greater than his, and she was much older as well. Aragorn was only twenty when they met. He was walking in the woods singing the lay of Beren and Luthien, when he caught sight of her, and he thought he had strayed into a dream. He was in love with her from that moment on, but Elrond told him that he would have no wife until he proved himself worthy of it. So Aragorn left Rivendell and went out to live in the wild to come into his manhood. Aragorn and Arwen wouldn't meet again for thirty years. When they did meet again, it was in Lorien, the home of her grandmother Galadriel. They spent the fall together, and on Cerin Amroth, they…I believe the term is 'plighted their troth'," I said with a frown. Boromir nodded, long used to me stumbling over unfamiliar terms. I continued. "Elrond heard of his daughter's choice, and told Aragorn that he would not let Arwen marry any less than the king of both Gondor and Arnor, because Arwen is half-elven. She is immortal only as long as Elrond stays on Middle Earth. By marrying Aragorn, she becomes mortal."

Boromir shook his head. "Much of what Aragorn has done becomes clear. How then, does their story end?"

I opened my eyes and looked at him. "You really want to know?"

"I do."

I took his hand and kissed it. "You can't tell anyone." He nodded. "Aragorn and Arwen have a son, Eldarion, and at least two daughters. They rule for six score years." I paused here, and looked at him as he ran an amazed hand through his hair. "How long is that? We don't use terms like that anymore."

"A score is twenty. They rule for 120 years?"

"Yes, and then Aragorn will go to the Silent Street, and lay down in a bed long prepared for him, and he will give Eldarion his crown and scepter. Arwen alone will stay with him, and she will beg him to stay with her. But he will reply that he would not stay until he is old and witless and unmanned, because he has been given the gift of choosing when he dies. And only then will Arwen truly understand her choice, because no ships will then bear her to the West and to her people. So, when Aragorn lets himself die, Arwen will return to Lorien, now empty and silent, for by that time all the elves had left Middle Earth. And she'll stay until winter comes, then lay herself to rest upon Cerin Amroth."

Boromir was silent for a moment, though he still stroked my hair. "You confuse your verb tenses," he said at last. I looked up at him in question, so he elaborated. "You sometimes speak of events as things that will happen, and other times speak of them as though they had already passed."

I shrugged. "For me, they already have, in a way."

He shook his head. "Sometimes I forget that you are not truly from some little known country with unusual customs."

I wished bitterly that I could, but I forced the thought from my mind and sat up. "Come on, let's write that letter."

He pulled the pen and paper from the table where the butler had set it, and quickly wrote down what I told him. As he sealed the note, he said, "do you wish for me to teach you to read and write?"

"Well, yes, but I thought you were too busy."

"Now, perhaps, that is true, yet when we visit Dol Amroth, I shall have the time. Your expression when Lord Saeros mentioned your illiteracy did not escape my notice. I have seen that it is a source of frustration for you."

I smiled, thrilled at the idea, and straddled his lap to kiss him soundly on the mouth. "That would be great. I can't thank you enough," I said, kissing him again as he wrapped his arms around me. "You have no idea what this means to me. I was always an avid reader. I wish I could do something for you in return." He smiled at my enthusiasm.

"Perhaps you could teach me your language," he suggested. He kissed my nose when he saw my expression of surprise. "Why so astonished? Every morning, I hear you sing to yourself as you dress, and cannot understand what you sing of. Many times, too, when you are excited or afraid or muttering to yourself, you lapse into your native tongue without realizing it. You have also been known to berate me in English," he added sarcastically. I laughed and kissed him again.

"I will teach you my language, and you will teach me to read," I said with a satisfied smile.

"I propose we start tonight," he said. "I can think of another situation where you cry out in English," he leered. I giggled and let him carry me upstairs.

0o0o0o0o0o

And so it was that, a week later, Boromir and I clapped politely as Aragorn and Arwen entered the ballroom to their wedding reception. Well, Boromir clapped politely. I whooped as loud as I could, startling the dignitaries around me. My husband just looked at me in amusement.

We partied (well, as much as you can in Middle Earth) for a few hours. I couldn't drink, though, and pregnancy symptoms had started with a vengeance, leaving me tired and queasy, so for me, the reception was pretty boring. I danced once or twice with Boromir, but I was too exhausted to want to do more than sit, so I wound up chatting with the Fellowship for a few hours. Eventually, fatigue won out, and I offered my congratulations to the new couple (and took great pleasure in elbowing Aragorn and muttering dirty jokes), before telling my husband that I was going home to work for a while. Parties are no fun for pregnant women, and I knew I could have a much more pleasant evening working on my next project: the printing press.

I began my long walk down to the streets with Tauron at my side, mulling things as we journeyed. The Council still had not reached a decision on my law, and the waiting was driving me crazy. To pull my mind off of it, I had begun to think of what I could invent, and what landmark inventions had changed my own world's history. At first, I had thought of the lightbulb, but as I knew practically nothing about electricity, I figured it wouldn't be a likely candidate. Then I had thought about advances in medicine, but I didn't know much about that either, other than the hypodermic needle. But even if I created a working one, I didn't know anything about medicines. I had brainstormed for days, going further and further back into history, until I realized I needed to go back to the very beginning. Gutenberg's printing press had revolutionized the world, because for the first time, books (and subsequently, knowledge) were readily and easily spread throughout the world, sending research into hyperdrive.

I entered the study that Boromir and I shared. As a gift, my wonderful husband had commissioned a large oak desk for me, a more feminine model of his own, and the two were pushed together. We had spent several hours over the past few days working quietly in the room, and my desk was now covered in parchment, drafts of my new project. In contrast, the Steward's desk was extremely organized. Still, I preferred my chaos, and I sat down to work on my latest draft. I knew nothing about printing presses, so I was literally starting from scratch.

A few hours later, Boromir found me sleeping soundly at my desk, fatigue having overcome my desire to work. I woke to find myself being lifted from the chair.

"Snerfuffle?"

"You are tired, love. Give it up for the night. You can start fresh in the morning," he murmured as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Mmkay," I said, before yawning. He carried me to the room and laid me gently on the bed. As I watched him get undressed, I kicked off my slippers and pulled my dress over my head, then slipped myself under the blankets to wait for him. When he lay down, I promptly draped myself over his chest, eliciting a throaty chuckle from him and a kiss on the head. I fell asleep with his arm still wrapped around me.

Early pregnancy is the pits. Seriously. By the time I finally woke up the next morning, he was already gone, and the sun had risen high in the sky. Ten o'clock, maybe? I couldn't remember the last time I had slept so long. Nausea forced me from the bed and to the bucket in the corner. I had found that I always felt better after throwing up, so it no longer fazed me. After cleaning up and getting dressed, I walked down to the study, where I found a grinning Boromir sitting behind his desk.

"What are you doing here still," I asked in surprise as I gave him a kiss. He pulled me onto his lap and kissed me again, eliciting a laugh from me. "And so happy, too."

"The Council went to a vote this morning. They passed your law, Rose. You did it."

I sat there for a moment in shock. "They passed the law? Are you sure? This isn't some stupid joke or something?"

"No, Rose. Wait, why are you crying? Don't cry! You never cry! I thought you would be happy at the news," Boromir said frantically. I gave a pathetic sniffle.

"I _AM_ happy! I'm really really happy! I'm just so HAPPY," I explained tearfully, sobbing harder. Boromir was beginning to look panicked.

"Well, just stop it," he ordered. I practically wailed at that, and he looked so unsure of what he should do that it made me cry even harder.

"Here is your breakfast, milady," said a maid as she set down a tray. My sobs stopped abruptly as I eyed the food laden plate.

"Oooooh, biscuits!" I hopped off Boromir's lap and happily shoved one in my mouth, chewing cheerfully. Boromir looked so startled at the sudden change of mood that I started laughing, nearly choking on my food.

"Are these the mood swings I was warned of," he asked tentatively.

I shrugged, wondering what he was talking about. "What mood swing? I feel fine. Are you ok, honey? You look a little confused."

Boromir rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I'm never going to make it to the birth," he muttered. I shrugged again and shook my head. Honestly, and they say pregnant women have mood swings. Men are so weird sometimes. He was happy and grinning when I came in a minute ago. Ridiculous.

We set about our work, he on the repairs of Minas Tirith, I on my schematics, and fell into an amiable silence. Sometime after lunch, he received summons from the King regarding something or other, and left after kissing me on the head and promising to be back for dinner. I smiled as I watched him leave, thinking how wonderfully everything had turned out. My hand drifted vacantly across my still-flat belly as I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. Right now, life was perfect. Frodo and the Fellowship wouldn't be leaving for a few weeks yet, so everyone I loved was safe and happy in Minas Tirith. I was happily married to the man of my wildest dreams, carrying his child, had fulfilling work, and was looking forward to a quiet, blissfully happy future. Absolutely nothing could ruin this moment. I sighed contentedly, and began to think of baby names.

A loud _whump!_ shocked me out of my reverie, and I opened my eyes to see an equally startled woman laying across my desk. My shock only grew deeper as I took in her wild red hair, glasses, superman t-shirt, jeans, sneakers, and lab coat. For all her nerd-tastic apparel, she appeared to be in her late twenties, and looked to be as horrified and confused as I was.

"What just happened," she asked.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**A/N: I'm writing a sequel to this story, from the perspective of our new arrival. I don't have any idea what's going to happen in it, but my muse has decided that Rose has been through enough, and should get her happy ending. So, this is the last chapter, and now we will get to see what happens to the new girl.  
**

**Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers who kicked my butt into completing this story. Cookies and kisses for all! Let me know in a review who you think the new girl should end up with!**


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